


Rent a (boy)Friend

by writingfromtheshadows



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancer Phichit, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Programmer Yuuri, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromtheshadows/pseuds/writingfromtheshadows
Summary: Curious about why Yuuri never hangs out with any of them after work, his coworkers decide to invite Yuuri's mystery significant other to drinks. There's only one problem: Yuuri is single.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [odasaku (jemtessa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemtessa/gifts).



> This is my first time writing phichuuri (if you don't count a 300 word drabble that I wrote for a prompt). This whole thing is Lauren's (@odasaku) fault for planting this idea and urging me to write it. I love these boys so hopefully I do them some justice!!
> 
> *Guang-Hong has been aged up in this fic to be the same age as Leo (19). All other characters are the same age as in canon.

The thing about becoming a respected game programmer at the ripe age of twenty-three is that it takes a lot of dedication. ‘A lot’ as in an obsessive amount of dedication, as in ‘there’s room for nothing else in my life’ amount of dedication, as in ‘my best friend is my computer’ amount of dedication.

It’s worked fine for Yuuri up until now. Focusing on his studies in college allowed him to graduate early. Being glued to his work made him stand out at his internship his junior year of college. Devoting all his free time to perfecting his skills made him program at a level akin to a six-year veteran in the business.

That’s what landed him a job at one of the premier distributing companies in the business. It’s why he was placed on the team of a three-year project already two years into development. Why he was being paid six figures to help speed up the production of a multi-billion-dollar franchise.

It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t have a life, just that video games _are_ his life.

And that was fine until he started working for Monsoon Entertainment, until his programming went from an individual process to being part of a team effort; because teams have people, and people socialize, and the idea of going to a bar after spending eight hours writing code has never sounded remotely appealing to Yuuri.

So, the first time someone from the project invited Yuuri to the office happy hour, he gave them a rueful smile and said, “Sorry, I already have plans.”

Which worked quite well for months until Yuuko, one of the only female programmers on the project, asked, “Who do you have plans with this often that is so much more important than us? Is it a hot date?”

Caught off-guard and maybe (definitely) slightly distracted thinking about what he was planning to eat for dinner (alone, in his apartment), Yuuri answered, “Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

Alarm must have been written all over Yuuri’s face because Yuuko winced and amended, “Sorry, bad habit. What’s their name?”

“Let the new kid go home,” Nishigori cut into the conversation, “You can drill him later. You don’t want him to make his date wait.”

Of course, by the end of the week, everyone knew about Yuuri’s mystery significant other, and Yuuko took the ‘drill him later’ advice seriously, cornering Yuuri on his way out of the office Friday afternoon.

“You’ve been here half-a-year and we’ve never seen you at happy hour or even a trivia night; I’m almost convinced that you don’t exist outside of the office. We’re going to Charlie’s next week and you’re picking the day so that you can definitely attend. Bring your mystery friend with you.”

It’s a wonderful series of events that has led to Yuuri sitting with his hands covering his face as his older sister laughs at him over Skype.

“I told you so you could give me advice, Mari,” he groans.

“You’ve been avoiding socializing with these people for so long that they assumed you’re dating someone. Kid, this is comedy gold, needs to be in a sitcom. What did you tell her?”

“That we could make next Friday work,” Yuuri admits. “What am I going to do?”

Mari catches her breath, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes, “Sounds like you need to find a boyfriend.”

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri says, “If it was that easy I would already have one.”

“Good point. Guess you have to quit your job, change your name, and move back home.”

Yuuri slumps down in his seat, not willing to admit that she just named his initial plan of action (devised after fifteen minutes of panicking in his apartment), “Please, Mari. I’m desperate.”

His sister runs her hand through her hair, thinking through the problem seriously before snapping her fingers, “Hire someone!”

“Like, an actor? On Craigslist?”

“No. Literally anyone can respond to those ads and you have no idea who they are. There are websites where you can pay people to hang out with you for a few hours. Try one of those.”

It doesn’t sound too unreasonable. Certainly less drastic than moving countries, “You think I can find someone willing to pretend we’re dating?”

“Kid, you’re not horrible looking and you make good money. I’m sure you won’t have a problem finding someone to take your money to save you an evening of social disgrace,” Mari’s reply is said absently, her eyes flicking across the screen before she clicks a few times. “I sent you a link to one of those sites. Give it a try.”

Yuuri opens his email and follows the link to a website called Rent a Friend, “You don’t think this is weird?”

“It’s insane, but you brought it on yourself. Either fess up or commit.”

Yuuri sighs; she has a point, “Thanks, Nee-san. One more thing?”

“Don’t tell mom and dad? My lips are sealed. Good luck.”

The call ends, and Yuuri stares blankly at his screen, considering his options. As uncomfortable as it feels to pretend to date a stranger, it would be mortifying to explain to his colleagues that he’s single and avoids going out with them due to a mixture of social anxiety and a general disinterest in large get-togethers. A stranger he can pay and never see again, but Yuuri will have to face his co-workers five days a week.

Decision made, he sets up a profile, uploading a couple of pictures and filling in basic information about himself before searching for a candidate. Each potential ‘friend’ has set prices and activities they are and are not willing to take part in. He’s not surprised to note that ‘pretending to be your boyfriend’ is not a clickable option.

Two pages in, a profile finally jumps out. The user has rave reviews; all his clients talking about how easygoing he is. The small bio on his profile gives off a genuinely friendly vibe rather than the professionally personable impression many of the others emanate.

 

 _I love meeting new people and taking a million pictures! My passions are dancing and my adorable hamsters. I’m up for just about anything._  
Send me a request _ヽ_ _(_ _〃＾_ _▽_ _＾〃_ _)_ _ﾉ_  
Age: 20. Fluent in: English, Thai. Price: $10-$15 an hour.  
~* Send **@twinkletoes** a Message *~

 

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri composes a message and clicks ‘send’.

 

* * *

 

Phichit almost cries with relief when he reaches the door of his apartment. Never in his life has he been so glad to see the tiny flat that he pays way too much rent for despite its faulty AC and noisy neighbors. At this point, he thinks he might even give a kiss to the rats that sometimes scamper through the kitchen.

Turning the key and stepping inside feels so good that Phichit doubts finding Nirvana could feel better. He gratefully kicks his shoes off, positive he can hear his feet sighing in relief to be free after a brutal practice.

“I’m home!” He calls, somewhat redundantly since all three of his roommates are sprawled between the kitchen and small living room that the front door opens into.

“Never would have guessed.” The dry comment is spoken from behind a laptop screen; Seung-gil doesn’t even bother to glance up from whatever he currently has his nose buried in.

Phichit steps down the hallway, tossing his backpack and dance bag on his bed before returning to the common area to dramatically flop on the couch next to Leo, “Ten extra minutes of that torture and I would have died. You three were _this_ close to hunting for a new roommate.”

“I feel like you say this every Friday, Phichit,” Leo muses, glancing up from the papers spread out on the low table in the living room.

Various designs stare up from the table and Phichit glances curiously at them, trying to guess Leo’s current project, as he says, “That’s because _every_ Friday is torture. I think they do it just so we don’t have the energy to have fun over the weekend.”

“You’re the one always saying that you have to be careful about what you put in your body.” Leo’s eyes turn back to his work.

The complete and utter lack of compassion from his roommates is, frankly, a bit offending. Phichit hauls himself upright just enough to make eye-contact with Guang-Hong (easily the most kind-hearted of the trio), who is sharing the kitchen table with Seung-gil, “Do you at least have sympathy for me?”

Guang-Hong gives him a small smile, “Of course, but we don’t really know what you feel like. None of us are dancers.”

“Good. Stay that way,” Phichit mumbles. “My body hates me.”

“Maybe you should lie down?” Guang-Hong suggests.

“I wish.” Lying down in his bed (no matter how lumpy the mattress is), will make Phichit fall asleep immediately. Just like the other three, he has homework that seems to multiply by the hour, and he never has enough hours in the day to finish it all.

Pushing himself off the sofa with a groan, Phichit makes his way to his room and tugs his laptop from his backpack. There’s just enough room at the kitchen table for him to carve out space for his computer and mouse, and Phichit turns on the device, mentally running through what he needs to do before he can try to blissfully sleep off the soreness in his limbs.

There’s a routine to his days: it’s the only way he’s able to manage all of his commitments. He wakes up, goes to school, goes to his extra rehearsals, schedules work, does his homework. Thanks to his chosen career path, Phichit doesn’t have much time to pick up a part-time job. Unfortunately, his chosen career path also means money is incredibly tight. A scholarship and a kind dance instructor helped him through his first year of school, but halfway through his sophomore year, Phichit needed an extra source of income to pay for surprise expenses.

That’s where Rent a Friend came in. It’s easy to manage, Phichit gets to control his own rates and schedules, and he’s surprisingly in high-demand. Most weekends, Phichit finds himself turning down clients rather than desperately searching for work.

He opens his profile and begins clicking through his unread messages, deleting the ones from anyone who seems suspect and earmarking ones that he’s interested in. One of his newest messages catches his attention:

 

 _from: @ykatsuki (online 2 hours ago)_  
Hi twinkletoes, I have an odd request and I completely understand if you’re not interested.  
My coworkers are under the impression that I’ve been avoiding hanging out with them because I’m dating someone, and they want to meet them.  
If you’re interested, it would just be for two hours next Friday for a trivia night.  
I’d also be willing to buy you a coffee and explain the situation a bit more.  
Please let me know!

‘Odd request’ is a bit of an understatement.

Curiosity piqued, Phichit clicks on the profile attached with the message, frowning in confusion. The man in the picture is smiling slightly at the camera, holding up a medal for the photo, a slight blush tinging his cheeks. He doesn’t seem like the type to need help getting along with coworkers, but he also doesn’t seem like the type to be an ax murderer.

Phichit drums his fingers on the table. As a college student, ‘free’ is one of his favorite words. It also doesn’t hurt that the guy in the picture is kind of adorable, and they would be meeting in public…

He clicks back to the message and types a reply.

 _@twinkletoes_  
You’re right, that is an odd request.  
I can’t commit to saying yes, but I’m definitely interested in hearing how this happened.  
I can grab coffee this Sunday. What time works for you?

* * *

 

In the time between sending his original message to twinkletoes, getting a response, setting up a time for coffee, and actually sitting down at a table in the designated coffee shop, Yuuri’s fairly certain he’s talked himself into and out of the ‘change names and move back to Japan’ plan about a dozen times. He hasn’t gone through with that plan because he really does love his job (and his name) but the churning in his gut makes it seem much more reasonable each second he waits for twinkletoes to arrive.

He tries his best not to stare at the door to the coffee shop—he doesn’t want to come off as a creep—but each time the door opens Yuuri thinks he might jump out of his seat.

Picking up his phone, Yuuri checks the time again. It’s 2:32. He’s pretty sure it’s been 2:32 for the last five minutes. Desperately needing a distraction, he opens the note app on his phone and begins idly typing some ideas for a few bug fixes he wants to work on over the coming week.

“Excuse me.”

Yuuri glances up from his phone and feels his mouth go dry.

Twinkletoes is standing next to his table, smiling down at Yuuri like they’ve known each for years and—holy shit—Yuuri was not prepared.

He didn’t look this hot in the pictures. Actually, Yuuri’s not even sure he paid attention to the pictures at all. He can’t even remember much about them besides a friendly smile and fingers held up in the peace sign.

A hand is held out, “My name is Phichit, it’s nice to meet you.”

Belatedly, Yuuri scrambles to his feet and shakes the offered hand, “Yuuri. It’s nice to meet you too. Can I get you a coffee?”

Phichit glances at the menu and seems to debate something before saying, “An iced green tea would be nice.”

“Coming right up.” Yuuri heads to the counter, grateful they didn’t arrive at the same time so he can use these precious minutes of solitude to compose himself.

He needs to not ruin this. He needs twinkletoes—Phichit—to agree to pretend to be his boyfriend. He…god, he’s going to have to explain to Phichit why he needs a fake boyfriend. Yuuri’s not sure he’ll even be able to look Phichit in the eyes while he does that.

It’s just his luck that Phichit orders something quick and easy to make. The barista is handing it to Yuuri merely seconds after he orders and he makes his way back to the table at the side of the room. Phichit beams up at him when he arrives, “Thank you!”

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” Yuuri says, taking his seat. “I, uh, I don’t really know where to start. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

There’s no judgment in Phichit’s face, his smile softening to a look of understanding, “It’s okay, a lot of people take a little while to warm up to this. Let’s start with the basics: you want me to go to trivia night with you and your coworkers next week?”

Nodding, Yuuri explains, “They go out together about once a week. It’s at a place not far from here, pretty small with good food. I think there’s usually ten people or so from the office who go.”

“You’ve never gone?”

“No. I’ve been working with them for six months and I always turned down the invitation. I said I had plans every time.”

Dark grey eyes twinkle with amusement, “Plans with Netflix?”

Blushing, Yuuri nods again, “I’m not very good with groups in situations like that. One of my coworkers, Yuuko, assumed that I always have plans because I’m dating someone and I was too surprised to correct her.”

It looks like Phichit is trying hard not to laugh, and Yuuri can’t blame him; the situation is absurd, “So, now you either show up to trivia night with this mystery partner or you admit you’ve been avoiding them to hang out by yourself.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous,” Yuuri mumbles, gaze dropping to stare at the table.

“It’s actually pretty hilarious,” Phichit corrects, pausing to sip his drink. “If I said yes, what would you expect me to do?”

Glancing back up, slightly confused, Yuuri asks, “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Phichit expands, “Well, Rent a Friend isn’t an escort service, and I don’t kiss on the first date anyway….”

Eyes widening, Yuuri frantically shakes his head, “No, no, I wouldn’t ask that of you! I don’t know, maybe hold hands a bit? That’s it.”

“That’s reasonable,” Phichit muses, eyes flicking to look out the window as he considers the arrangement. Yuuri tries not to hold his breath in anticipation—of everyone he saw on the website, Phichit seems like his best bet. If Phichit says no, he’s not sure what he’ll do, “Since this is outside my normal range of acceptable activities, it will cost more.”

“That’s fine.”

Raising an eyebrow, Phichit asks, “Don’t you want to know how much?”

Yuuri doesn’t really care, “Sure.”

“Twenty dollars an hour.”

It’s not even necessary for Yuuri to think it over; he’s willing to pay more than twice that to avoid the humiliation of having to correct all the assumptions at his office, and he nods immediately, “It’s a deal.”

He’s treated to Phichit’s beaming smile again, and the younger man leans forward, “Tell me about yourself, Yuuri. If I’m pretending to be your boyfriend, I should know more than your name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rent a Friend is 100% a legit thing. I actually earned a few extra bucks during college as a friend for this service. It's...interesting
I also know what you're thinking...Yuuri getting a job straight out of college is too unrealistic. I know, I know, but this is fanfiction so all of our wildest dreams can come true.
Also, yes, that is an avatar reference



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri introduces his coworkers to his (fake) boyfriend.

It takes Phichit exactly two minutes in Yuuri’s company to come the decision that he’s absolutely adorable.

Between arriving at the coffee shop and finally getting to learn Yuuri’s name, Phichit makes the realization that Yuuri’s blush is unfair as a negotiation tool, and it only gets worse as he realizes the utter hilarity of Yuuri’s situation, the comedic mess that he stumbled into.

He would honestly be fine going to trivia night with Yuuri free of cost, but Phichit’s bank account would have loudly protested him turning down a chance to make a few extra bucks, and with the willingness Yuuri had to agree to his higher rate, Phichit finds himself wondering if he should have asked for more.

Not that getting to constantly text Yuuri isn’t payment of its own. In the four days since they met, Phichit has learned dozens of random tidbits about the other man (all for the purpose of crafting the best charade possible, that is definitely his only motivation). Despite the fact that it’s one fake date and then they will likely never see each other again, Phichit has taken to cataloging the information he learns about Yuuri.

He knows Yuuri’s favorite food (a dish called katsudon), that he prefers DC to Marvel (even though he admits the Marvel films have been better overall), and that his favorite season is winter (he likes wearing over-sized sweaters). The only time Phichit isn’t texting Yuuri is during ballet class (he doesn’t put it past Madame Baranovskaya to throw his phone out the window).

When she calls for a break, Phichit digs his phone from his bag, eager to read Yuuri’s response to his last messages:

 

 _[16:32] Phichit_  
_i just thought of something..._  
_did you ask more people than me to be your fake boyfriend?_  
_i think my heart would break if I turned out to be your fake sidepiece (¬_¬)_

 _[17:01] Yuuri_  
_Just you, you’re the only person I wanted to ask._

 

“That’s not fair,” Phichit whines, fingers hovering over the screen of his phone as he tries to find something to say that won’t embarrass Yuuri because he’s 85% sure Yuuri doesn’t even realize how flirty the response comes across.

He’s cycled through and dismissed three possible responses when another message comes through, and then another, the contents of which make Phichit burst out into laughter.

 

 _[17:10] Yuuri_  
_Wait that sounds creepy doesn’t it._  
_I was just nervous and you seemed like you would at least hear me out._

 _[17:11] Phichit_  
_you figured that out from my profile?_  
_it was the hamsters, wasn’t it?_

 _[17:12] Yuuri_  
_......well I prefer dogs_

 _[17:12] Phichit_  
_that’s it._  
_i’m breaking up with you._  
_we’re over._

 _[17:13] in the doghouse_  
_I’m paying you to pretend to be my boyfriend._  
_I’m not sure breaking up is a thing we can do?_

 

“Mr. Chulanont, is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Phichit tears his eyes away from his phone to meet the disapproving frown of his ballet instructor. Belatedly, he realizes his laughter has made him the center of attention, and he hastily shoves his phone behind his back and shakes his head.

“No, sorry, madame.”

She sniffs in reply before clapping her hands together, “Then we can all get back to work.”

He takes the chance to type out a hasty goodbye to Yuuri before pushing his phone back into his bag and forcing himself to concentrate for the rest of the lesson. Madame Baranovskaya doesn’t hold classes on Friday, so Phichit figures he only has to survive three such lessons without talking to his…client? Friend? Pseudo-boyfriend? Shaking his head, Phichit steps up to the barre and tries to take a relaxing breath.

Friday can’t come soon enough.

 

* * *

 

They decided to meet outside the café they initially had coffee at, since it was just a few blocks from the bar and would give them time to talk (not to mention arriving together is probably the smart move).

Yuuri's already waiting outside when Phichit turns the corner, and Phichit is immediately glad that he spent an hour debating over the right outfit because, sure, this is a fake date but Yuuri looks like a damn Instagram model. It's almost too much, Yuuri lounging outside a closed local coffee shop in faded skinny jeans, a beanie covering his hair and a plain white t-shirt underneath a deep blue flannel to ward off the evening chill. It's honestly a travesty that Yuuri doesn't have an Instagram (not that Phichit spent hours obsessively searching for one or anything).

When Phichit's within earshot, Yuuri pushes himself off the wall, a shy smile curling on his lips, "Hey."

Phichit grins in reply, "Hey yourself. You look nice."

"I think that's my line," Yuuri says, eyes flicking down to briefly take in Phichit's appearance (and Phichit _knows_ black-on-black is a good look for him but the slight blush on Yuuri's cheeks certainly doesn't hurt his self-esteem), "Thank you again for doing this."

Shrugging, Phichit brushes the comment off (it's probably the twenty-seventh time Yuuri's thanked him since he agreed), "It'll be fun. Do you want to head over now?"

Yuuri nods and they set off down the street. The silence between them is just a touch awkward after a week of endless text messages. Phichit marvels at how the personality that shines through over the phone seems to vanish underneath shyness. Once again, Phichit is faced with pulling a quiet client out of his shell; it's lucky that it just so happens to be one of his specialties.

"How was work?" he asks, starting slow. "You mentioned you had a deadline?"

(Which Phichit remembers because it was the reason why Yuuri was off his phone all day).

Yuuri nods, "We're getting down to the wire for the game's release, so everything is getting stricter. I managed to get my projects for the deadline done, but it was close." Phichit's treated to another smile, "How was rehearsal?"

"Brutal. Torture. My dance tutor tries to kill me every Friday. I'm convinced she does it so I can't have fun over the weekend."

It tugs surprised laughter from Yuuri, "I used to have an instructor like that."

"For programming?"

"No. Ballet."

Phichit stops walking.

His eyes narrow and he scans Yuuri again, ignoring the effortlessly trendy clothing to study the slender figure he previously assumed was the by-product of a fast metabolism. Now that he's searching for it, he thinks he can pick out the proof of Yuuri's words by how the older man carries himself, moving gracefully in a way that Phichit takes for granted but probably isn't normal for someone who makes his livelihood at a computer.

Yuuri half-turns to look back at him, confusion all over his face, "Are you okay?"

"You were trained in ballet?"

"Sort of. Not seriously, not like you, but I still keep up with it casually. The exercise is good."

They're almost at the bar and Phichit doesn't have the time to reevaluate his entire mental picture of Yuuri, to wrap his mind around the fact that this gorgeous and well-educated man can also _dance_.

"I can't believe I'm just now learning this."

There's a slight burrow between Yuuri's eyebrows, his confusion more evident on his face, "We've only known each other for a week?"

"Yes, but..." Phichit waves his hands in the air, lost for the words to express his current bewilderment.

"Yuuri!" A call comes from the direction of the bar.

The man in question only glances over long enough to wave in response before his gaze is back on Phichit, apprehension leaking onto his features as he shuffles on his feet, "Uh, is that okay? If you want to leave I'll understand."

"What? Oh, no, I don't want to leave, I just need to wrap my head around this," the words leave Phichit's mouth in a rush, eager to soothe the misunderstanding before Yuuri completely closes himself off.

It's not that Phichit has any evidence that Yuuri would completely withdraw and shut down if this isn't cleared up, but their current circumstances—the misunderstanding Yuuri had with his coworkers, the fact that he reached out to a stranger instead of asking a friend to fit the charade, the way Phichit had to wheedle him into just this conversation—gives Phichit enough basis to justify his assumption.

"I’m just surprised, pleasantly surprised," Phichit says, "I would have spared you no details of my rehearsal if I knew you could keep up with the terminology."

Brown eyes widen slightly, and Yuuri opens his mouth to reply. He's beat to the chase by a woman appearing out of thin air (though she might have been standing next to them for the whole conversation, it's not like Phichit would have noticed). She gives Yuuri a smile before pulling him into a hug that Yuuri awkwardly reciprocates, "You've been standing here forever! I wasn't about to pay Takeshi back our bet."

"Bet?" Yuuri repeats.

"Whether or not you would show," the woman says flippantly, attention shifting to Phichit. She holds her hand out, smile widening, "You must be Phichit, right?"

Pushing his surprise to the side, Phichit shakes her hand, "And you must be...Yuuko?"

"Yuuri's told you about me?" Yuuko asks, whirling back on Yuuri with a raised eyebrow that Yuuri gives a weak nod in response to, "He's told us practically nothing about you. We didn't even know you existed until a week ago."

Laughing, Phichit steps around Yuuko so he's standing next to Yuuri, "He's like that. He's probably so focused on his work that it's all he talks about."

It's not a difficult guess, given how most of what Phichit knows about Yuuri revolves around Yuuri's work, but it's enough to make Yuuko laugh too and lead them toward the bar, "Well hopefully you don't mind being bombarded by questions. Yuuri's love life has become quite the office mystery. Even the design team is eager to meet you."

"You told the design team about him?" Yuuri's question comes out high-pitched, almost a squeak.

"Yeah, Chris wanted to know why we had to come to trivia again instead of going to happy hour at a different place. I had to explain that Phichit's underage."

Yuuri's face is growing paler with each step they take toward the front door of the bar, and Phichit wouldn't be too surprised if Yuuri just turned around and ran for it. Instead, Yuuri sets his shoulders and takes a deep breath, eyes focusing on the bar sign before he nods slightly and glances over at Phichit, "I think this might be a bit crazier than I anticipated."

Again, Yuuri's offering Phichit an out: as if this isn't one of the best paychecks Phichit will get all month, as if there's any way Phichit can leave without Yuuri's coworkers getting suspicious of the whole thing. Given the almost tangible nerves rolling off Yuuri, it's amazing that he's able to consider the possibility that Phichit might be nearly as uncomfortable as he is.

"Then we might as well rip the band-aid off," Phichit replies, winking to indicate he's fine.

Yuuko pushes the door open, they step inside and are surrounded by the noise of the lively neighborhood bar. Despite Yuuri’s initial description of it being ‘pretty small’ the reality feels anything but. It's a teeming mass of bodies that Yuuko has no problem maneuvering through, but Phichit finds himself reaching out, grabbing Yuuri's wrist so they aren't separated. Given that Yuuri has worked with Yuuko for several months, Phichit follows his 'date', trusting that Yuuri will be able to keep up with his coworker.

The tide of bodies parts suddenly as they step into a side room where the trivia night is being held. It's early enough that the night hasn't quite kicked into gear—there is probably another thirty minutes before the games started—so Phichit lets Yuuri's wrist drop as they follow Yuuko to a table.

"Yuuri! You actually came!" The speaker is a burly man that Phichit thinks could bench press him. From the way Yuuko immediately sidles up to his side, Phichit assumes he's Takeshi.

Yuuri shrugs, stepping up to the table, "I said I would come."

"Can't blame me for being a skeptic," Takeshi replies, "are you going to introduce everyone?"

The pink tingeing Yuuri's ears is an answer in itself to Phichit, who steps forward with the disarming smile he's turned into a sort of weapon since becoming a 'professional friend', "My name is Phichit. It's nice to meet everyone, Yuuri talks really highly of all of his colleagues."

" _All_ of his colleagues? That's a bold statement." A low purr comes from Phichit's right, and he turns to meet startlingly green eyes framed by long lashes. The speaker is standing just barely outside of Phichit's personal space, but the way his gaze rakes Phichit's body makes Phichit feel like there's no distance between them at all, "Does that include the other teams?"

"I-uh," Phichit doesn't find himself lost for words often, and he blinks, rapidly cycling through the information he dragged out of Yuuri over the last week, searching for a name, "You must be Chris?"

"Oh? He talks about me too?" Chris' attention (thankfully) switches to Yuuri and a flirtatious smile stretches on his lips, "Yuuri, I'm flattered. It makes up for you spurning my advances all the time."

"Advances?" Yuuri repeats, blinking up at Chris, evidently clueless to what Chris means.

A hand claps Chris’ shoulder and another man steps into Phichit's frame of vision and he briefly wonders how so many gorgeous people manage to work in the same building, much less on the same project, "I told you that you weren't his type, Chris."

Chris gives the newcomer a sly grin, "But that means you weren't either, darling."

Silver hair, bright blue eyes, and the easy banter with Chris are all features that Yuuri had mentioned over text and Phichit guesses, "And you're Viktor?"

Viktor holds out a hand, "Nice to meet you, Phichit. I'm surprised Yuuri's told you about Chris and me, since we're not programmers."

"The design team has an important role in development," Yuuri protests (Phichit thinks Yuuri might melt if his cheeks get any redder).

"Important?" Chris repeats, bringing a hand to his chest, feigning offense, "Mon chéri, without a design, you programmers have nothing to code."

"The artists are actually the ones who give us stuff to code," Takeshi corrects with an easy-going grin, "you designers are really just day-dreamers when it comes down to it."

Viktor's eyes narrow and his smile takes on a competitive edge, "Bold words considering the programming team has been pulling straight losses for months. Care to make a bet, Takeshi?"

Taking advantage of the distraction, Yuuri pulls Phichit around the table to empty seats, and Phichit lets out a huff of laughter as he plops into one, "You weren't kidding when you said they were competitive."

"Sorry about them," Yuuri mumbles.

"Don't be, they're fun." Phichit picks up a menu, thankful that this bar doubles as a tavern (because it was hard to find time for dinner between rehearsal, his shower, and agonizing over what to wear), "My friends come here a lot, they swear by the fries."

"You don't?"

Phichit shrugs, "Fries aren't really on a dancer's diet, well, nothing here is. Plus, I'm usually exhausted or working, so I don't get out much."

Yuuri seems to consider Phichit's words, head tilted slightly in a way that makes the light glint off his glasses before he waves a waitress over and orders a giant appetizer plate and a burger that Phichit's positive a normal person can't even eat completely. When the waitress is gone, Yuuri smiles back at him, "You can take a cheat day."

A different waiter walks past the table, carrying a basket of food to the other end of the room, and Phichit's stomach rumbles embarrassingly loud. He fights back a blush and says, "If you insist."

It’s probably the most fun Phichit has ever had on a job. True to the declarations he's heard all three of his roommates make, the food is mouthwatering, and Yuuri's insistence to foot the bill might make it just a bit better. Yuuri's coworkers are a lively bunch, certainly nothing like Phichit would have imagined a group of video game creators to be like, and when trivia starts the inter-office rivalry flares with friendly competitiveness. As the night goes on Yuuri relaxes (no doubt helped by two cups of beer), surprising everyone with his rapid-fire knowledge of topics outside of programming and video games and Phichit gives just as good, single-handedly dominating all pop culture topics.

Phichit manages to talk Yuuri into splitting the burger with him, and they eat through it, managing to (mostly) ignore the comments from everyone about how 'adorable of a couple' they make. It's unsurprising that no one thinks to question the fake relationship—after all, who agrees to pretend to date someone they barely know? The week of nonstop curiosity directed at Yuuri helps Phichit play the part of the perfect boyfriend, while Yuuri's evident reluctance to disclose personal information to anyone means all questions about their 'relationship' are directed at Phichit.

Halfway through the evening, Phichit clasps Yuuri's hand as he regales Yuuko with the story of their 'fourth date'—which involves an indoor ice-skating rink and an over-excited poodle—and never gets around to letting go.

Phichit's just thinking that he wouldn’t mind keeping up the charade for the next time Yuuri’s coworkers get together for trivia night when he hears a soft, “Phichit?”

Turning slightly in his seat, Phichit suddenly feels like the floor has swept out from underneath him because he’s staring at Guang-Hong, who is smiling that wonderful soft, innocent, smile that has no acknowledgment of how much this is probably the worst timing to have this conversation, “I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”

“I didn’t know _you_ were coming here tonight," Phichit parrots, because what else is he supposed to say?

At least it’s just Guang-Hong. If he works quickly, spins a good enough story, he can prevent this from blowing up in his face. He’s opening his mouth to ask Guang-Hong to keep this quiet from the other two when an arm is slung around Guang-Hong’s shoulder and Leo appears like a vision from Phichit’s nightmares, grinning, “I thought that was you, but it was hard to tell from across the room. Is this your ‘hot date’?”

Phichit has a flashback to his brief rush in and out the apartment that evening, hastening in from rehearsal to get ready for the night while trying to breezily brush off his roommate's questions. In an attempt to get them to leave it alone, Phichit might have said something about trying not to make his 'hot date' wait.

And Phichit could deny it if it weren’t for the fact that his fingers are still interlaced with Yuuri’s, sitting on top of the table, in full view of his two roommates. So, he tugs slightly on Yuuri’s hand, waiting for Yuuri to turn to him and— _holy shit_ that smile really isn’t what he needs right now, “Yuuri, these are my roommates: Guang-Hong and Leo.” Black hair slides into vision and Phichit adds, “and Seung-gil.”

He can see Yuuri’s eyes widen slightly and Phichit forges on, hoping Yuuri will just roll with it for now and leave it to Phichit to sort out later, “Guys, this is Yuuri.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Guang-Hong says.

Seung-gil’s eyes are flicking between the table of Yuuri’s coworkers and he frowns thoughtfully, “This doesn’t look like it’s your first date.”

“Of course it’s not,” the new voice is female and Phichit closes his eyes momentarily, wondering if it would be possible for the floor to open up and swallow him whole as Yuuko leans across the table to give the three young men a friendly smile, “Yuuri’s been avoiding us for six months, isn’t that how long you’ve been seeing each other?”

Leo doesn’t give Phichit the chance to deny—not that he can deny without blowing Yuuri’s cover, “ _Six months_? You’ve been dating him for six months and you didn’t tell us?”

At this point, dignity is completely out of the window, and Phichit drops his head so his free hand is covering his face (he doesn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand because Yuuri’s hand is soft and the older man is squeezing his fingers gently in reassurance), “Can we talk about this later, guys? Preferably somewhere not in public and sometime when I’m not on a date?”

His saving grace is Guang-Hong, which is ironic because it’s Guang-Hong noticing him that started this mess to begin with. The youngest of the trio gives Phichit a sympathetic look and begins tugging Leo away, “Sorry for interrupting! Have fun!”

“I have more questions!” Leo protests, looking to Seung-gil for support, “don’t you?”

A look of confusion crosses Seung-gil’s face and Phichit is fleetingly grateful that his friend is kind of clueless about everything that does not have to do with his chosen career path as Seung-gil follows behind and asks, “Questions about what?”

When they’re out of earshot, Phichit glances at Yuuri, “Sorry about that?”

Yuuri is already shaking his head, a slight blush tinging his cheeks, “No, I should be apologizing. This wouldn’t even be happening if it weren’t for me. Do you want to leave?”

Phichit snorts, “And have to face that lot? I’m ready to stay as long as you are.” He shifts back in his seat so he’s facing the table, “now I’m really in the mood to smoke the design team. What do you say?”

There’s soft laughter from beside him, and it tugs an answering smile to Phichit’s cheeks as Yuuri murmurs, “That sounds like a good plan to me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake dates don't grant immunity from real questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo sorry for the long gap between updates. My fic writing life has been a bit of a mess lately, but I think I'm back on track!

If trivia with Yuuri was the best job Phichit ever had, the rest of his night can be chalked down as the worst grilling he’s ever received.

It starts the moment he steps into the apartment, a grin still plastered on his face from how smug Yuuri had looked when he pulled out the win for their team. Between all the cheers (and friendly jeers from the other departments), Phichit had been struck with the sort of courage that only adrenaline and a night of pure chaos can provide and he dipped in to press a victory kiss to Yuuri’s cheek.

The way Yuuri’s blush traveled all the way to the neckline of his shirt had been enough to keep Phichit from being completely mortified at his impulsiveness and the memory carried Phichit all the way home, where he was promptly ambushed by his roommates.

“Six months? How did you keep him secret for six whole months?” Leo says, not even waiting for the door to fully close behind Phichit.

 _Ah, right._ The mess of running into his roommates might have slipped Phichit’s memory while he was floating on cloud nine.

Toeing his shoes off, Phichit sighs, “We’re not dating.”

Guang-Hong frowns thoughtfully, “You were on a date.”

“I guess.”

“Meeting his coworkers,” Leo adds.

“Yes but-”

“Pretty sure that qualifies as dating,” Seung-gil pipes up from his seat at the table, attention fixed on his phone.

Leo nods empathetically, “Especially if it’s been going on for _six months._ I mean, really it’s not like we’re asking for his life story but knowing that you’ve been in a relationship for half of a year seems pretty-”

“I’ve only known him for a week,” Phichit says, voice firm, “he’s a client, guys.”

It seems to stun the three into silence, all of them staring at Phichit like he’s grown a second head. After several long minutes, it’s Seung-gil who frowns, “You said that Rent-a-Friend thing wasn’t an escort service.”

Phichit wishes he could melt into the ground.

With a groan, he covers his rapidly warming cheeks with his hands and crosses the room, slumping into a seat, “It’s not! He just needed me to pretend to be his boyfriend for tonight. We didn’t… _do_ anything.”

Behind him, Phichit can hear someone rummaging in the fridge and seconds later a cheap bottle of white wine is being placed on the table. Leo drops into a chair, Guang-Hong doing the same while silently handing Phichit the corkscrew.

“You’re going to need to start from the beginning,” Leo says, voice strained as if he’s holding back laughter, “and don’t hog the wine.”

Gratefully, Phichit accepts the corkscrew and pulls the bottle over so he can open it, “So last week I got this message…”

He launches into the story, taking a swing of wine before passing it to his right. The bottle makes it way around, and around, and around the table as Phichit explains what exactly the arrangement had been and why he ended up agreeing. He pulls out his phone and shows several of the texts he’d exchanged with Yuuri over the week. He takes a larger gulp of wine before admitting to the kiss he planted on Yuuri’s cheek, keeping his eyes focused on the table as he does so.

When he’s run out of things to say, Phichit waits.

No one says a word.

It takes all of a minute for Phichit to lose his patience, and he finally tears his eyes away from the table to study his friends. He’s met with three wildly different facial expressions.

Leo’s mouth is pulling into a ridiculously smug grin. Guang-Hong’s eyes are wide, his expression slightly blissful. Seung-gil looks, for lack of a better word, exasperated.

“What?” Phichit prods.

“You only met him a week ago, right?” Seung-gil asks and, at Phichit’s nod, he sighs and picks his phone back up, “You’re going to be unbearable.”

Scowling, Phichit gently kicks the other boy under the table, “What is that supposed to mean?”

It’s Leo who answers, “You’re crushing on him. Hard.”

“I’m…no I’m not. Why would you even think that?” Phichit rushes to reply, cursing his mouth for suddenly getting so heavy when he’s usually smooth with his words, “I barely know him, and it was just business: an exchange of goods and services. You’re the business major, Leo, you understand!”

Leo laughs, “There’s nothing ‘just business’ about that dopey grin you had when you got back from your ‘exchange of goods and services’.”

Phichit turns his attention to Guang-Hong, eyes pleading as he says, “You believe me, right?”

With a grin of his own, Guang-Hong shakes his head, “You like Yuuri.”

Knowing that any argument is pointless when three of them (any three, honestly) get an idea in their head, Phichit pushes himself to his feet with a roll of his eyes, “Whatever. It’s not like it matters since I won’t see him again.”

As he strides the short distance from the common area to his bedroom, Phichit tries to pretend like that fact doesn’t bother him.

 

* * *

 

It’s relatively quiet at Minako’s studio for a Saturday morning.

Considering that he hasn’t been focused on dance since first getting his own computer, Yuuri prefers to come in when the chances of strangers catching sight of him are slim. The fact that the studio doors are always open to him means that he usually finds his way to a practice room late at night, when his mind is snagged on a difficult line of code or his anxiety is preventing him from sleep.

“Yuuri, are you alright?”

He blinks, and glances over his shoulder to where Minako is leaning against the threshold of the small room, “Yes?”

A wry smile spreads across her lips, “Then why was that a question?”

With a shrug, Yuuri turns his attention back to the mirror and lowers his leg from where it had been propped against the barre for far longer than necessary. Shifting his weight, Yuuri reaches into the stretch with his other leg as he murmurs, “I was just thinking.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your date last night, does it?”

Yuuri’s leg slips, landing on the studio floor with a dull thud that he doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy whirling to face Minako, “Mari told you?”

She gives him a wicked grin, “She made it very clear that she promised not to tell your parents; I fit quite neatly into the loophole. How did your date go?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Yuuri protests.

Minako doesn’t miss so much as a beat, “How did your ‘not date’ go?”

Yuuri eyes the older woman warily. He’s known Minako for most of his life, and he _knows_ that she won’t let the subject drop. Resigning himself to teasing from her and his sister (who will no doubt hear every word of the conversation from Minako), he turns back to the barre and returns to his stretch, “He was nice. It turned out a lot better than I could have asked for.”

She barely makes a sound as she crosses the studio to stand next to Yuuri, hands resting on his shoulders to gently push him into a better position—just like she had when he was a child, “Does he have a name?”

“It doesn’t matter, it was just another job for him,” Yuuri mutters.

The gentle push gets slightly less gentle, Minako’s voice still light and friendly as she presses, “A name, Yuu-kun.”

Wincing at the burn of the deeper stretch, Yuuri says, “Phichit. His name is Phichit.”

Her hands vanish, and Yuuri glances up to catch her gaze in the mirror. Minako’s eyes widen just for a moment before the expression (that Yuuri can only categorize as surprise) melts beneath a glint of mischief, “So you had a nice night with your fake boyfriend and then found your way to my studio during business hours, which you usually avoid…do you like him, Yuuri?”

Ducking his head back down, Yuuri tries to ignore the way his cheeks feel several degrees warmer at the question, “I barely know him.”

“But you went on a date.”

“A fake date,” he corrects.

Minako lets out a dramatic sigh, “And yet it was the only date you’ve been on in years, Yuuri. It’s tragic.”

Straightening from the stretch, Yuuri turns to look the older woman dead in the eye, “Don’t you have classes to teach?”

A smirk spreads across her lips and she pivots on her heel, waving her hand at him as she strolls toward the door, “This studio is free for a while, take your time. I’ll come get you about fifteen minutes before I need it.”

The moment the door closes behind Minako, Yuuri drops his head into his hands, allowing himself a little groan of misery at how this conversation had not helped the jumble of emotions that drove him to the studio outside of his usual schedule. Perhaps this wasn’t the best way for him to work through the storm of thoughts that had kept him awake half the previous night, but since he’s here, he might as well try and find some peace and calm.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri pushes the conversation to the back of his mind and begins to dance.

There’s no music playing—he rarely bothers with finding a suitable song or setting up the speakers—but he can hear the notes in his head. Moving with the flow of the imaginary tune, Yuuri lets his anxieties and his doubts flow off of his shoulders and out of his body. Each twirl clears his head just a bit more, each jump makes him feel weightless.

He has no idea how long he dances before he hears the door open (Minako’s return to signal the end of his time alone), but each second gives miles to soothing the mess of thoughts and worries in his mind that somehow all center around the feeling of a pair of lips pressing against his cheek. With a pleased hum, Yuuri comes to a stop, letting his eyes flutter shut so he can savor the moment of serenity before making his way back into the bustle of the city.

“Oh my god.”

That isn’t Minako’s voice.

Eyes flying open, Yuuri pivots to face the door and feels his heart drop through his stomach, “Phichit?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You were trained in ballet?"_   
>  _"Sort of. Not seriously, not like you, but I still keep up with it casually. The exercise is good."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: I did ballet when I was like....five and there's a lot of technicalities to it that google searching does not cover so please pardon any inaccuracies.

Like any Saturday morning, Phichit doesn’t sleep in. The grogginess of his movements from drinking too much cheap wine the night before begs him to go back to bed, but Phichit gets up with his alarm clock and wearily heads to the shower. Unlike his other three roommates, who have the luxury of sleeping in, Phichit spends his Saturday mornings practicing.

It’s a harsh reality that the dancing world is exclusive, and endlessly difficult to break into. Phichit doesn’t have connections, his parents don’t have thousands of dollars to support him if he doesn’t end up employed by the end of his program; he’s not a ballet prodigy and no one is clambering to call him an artistic genius. What he does have, is drive and determination, and he has both in droves.

However, at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning, they feel more like a curse than a blessing. All Phichit wants to do is go back to bed and sleep through his day, but instead he pulls on practice gear, picks up his dance bag, and makes his way out the door.

The air is crisp, cool without being uncomfortable; it helps clear Phichit’s head as he starts the jog from his apartment to Minako’s studio for his private session.

As it always does, the fact that he’s being tutored by _the_ Minako Okukawa brings a smile to Phichit’s face. He knows more than a few of his classmates are jealous that Phichit gets the time alone with a ballet legend, he sometimes feels them judging him, trying to determine what is so special about Phichit that Minako offered to tutor him after being a guest teacher for their courses one week, over a year ago.

Because you didn’t apply to be taught by the former prima ballerina, and there were rumors that she had turned down hundreds of thousands to teach the children of the well-connected. Everyone who takes lessons by her was simply picked; selected because Minako saw promise.

Grinning up at the sign that indicated the dance studio of his destination, Phichit pushes open the door.

“Good morning, Minako-sensei,” Phichit calls as he steps into the dance studio.

A slender woman glances up from the reception counter and smiles at Phichit, waving him over. When she first started tutoring Phichit, he had the habit of referring to her as Madame, just as he did with his ballet teacher at school. Minako quickly put a stop to that, saying that if Phichit insisted on being formal he could do so in her own language, “Good morning. Are you ready to show me that solo you’ve been working on?”

Wincing at the mention, Phichit runs a hand through his hair, “It’s still missing something, some emotion. You know I hate to show you unpolished work.”

Minako rolls her eyes, “If your dancing was perfect there would be no point in you coming every week. I’m seeing it today.”

Stifling a sigh, Phichit nods in agreement. Dark grey eyes study him curiously before a sly smile stretches across the woman’s lips that Phichit can’t place, “We’ll be in Room A today. You can head in and start stretching. I have a guest that should be able to help you find your missing emotion.”

There’s an element of mischief in Minako’s voice that makes Phichit hesitate, studying her face curiously for a hint as to who might be waiting in the practice room. Her face gives nothing away, a single eyebrow arching in a challenge, and Phichit mentally shrugs and turns from the counter to go the room in question.

The door is closed, which is odd given how empty the studio is at this hour. Risking another glance back at Minako (whose head is now back in her papers, either busy or deliberately ignoring him), Phichit turns the handle, steps into the practice room, and comes to a dead halt just inside.

When Phichit woke up, the last thing he anticipated to see during his day was Yuuri.

Yuuri _dancing_ was so far from the realm of possibility that Phichit hadn’t even allowed himself to imagine it.

He moves unlike anything Phichit has ever seen before, body fluid in a way that looks almost boneless. There isn’t a sound in the room other than the soft patter of Yuuri’s bare feet, but Phichit can feel the music flowing from Yuuri’s limbs, his entire body creating a song in a way that Phichit isn’t sure any musician could compare to.

It’s breathtaking.

Yuuri steps into a fouetté turn, twirling around himself across the floor towards the center of the practice room before tucking his foot into his body in a double pirouette and finishing without so much as a stumble, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s not technically flawless, and certainly wouldn’t cut it in many of Phichit's classes, but there’s a genuine feel to each motion that is moving in a way Phichit’s limbs ache to try and replicate.

“Oh my god.”

The words leave his mouth without permission.

Yuuri’s entire body stiffens as his eyes fly open and he pivots to face the door, a flush rising to his cheek that isn’t completely due to exertion, “Phichit? What are you doing here?”

“I have private lessons on Saturday mornings,” Phichit manages to say, pushing past his shock and awe to answer, “…what are you doing here?”

“Minako-sensei lets me come here to dance in private.”

Eyes widening, Phichit stumbles backward, “I’m so sorry for interrupting. I just…it was so beautiful I couldn’t bring myself to leave. She must have gotten the rooms mixed up so I’ll just be on my way and-”

Some of the surprise leaves Yuuri’s face as his eyes narrow, “What did she tell you?”

“That we were in Room A today and there was someone inside who would help me with putting emotion in my dance.”

Yuuri mumbles something in Japanese that sounds vaguely like a threat before giving Phichit an apologetic smile, “Then don’t worry about it. I’ve known Minako-sensei since I was a little boy, she likes to play jokes on me all the time.” He crosses to the back wall and leans over a backpack, “I’ll just get out of the way so you can practice.”

“Wait!” It comes out more like a yelp than Phichit would’ve liked, but it makes Yuuri pause, backpack hanging limply from his hand, “Can you help me?”

“Help you?” Yuuri repeats as if the words are foreign.

Nodding, Phichit rushes to explain, “With this solo. There was so much emotion in your dancing at that’s what I’m missing. I have a hard time connecting to dances if I don’t like the music or the story, but you just did _that,”_ Phichit makes a vague hand motion and silently curses himself for becoming so inarticulate at a time like this, “Without any music at all.”

Yuuri tilts his head, still looking bewildered, “I’m a game programmer, not a dance teacher. I’d probably make your solo worse.”

Phichit blinks, stunned into silence by the deprecating comment for a moment before he forges on, “Please, Yuuri. At least…watch it? It’s only fair after I walked in on you. And then if you have thoughts afterward I’d love to hear them.”

There’s silence as Yuuri considers Phichit, brown eyes sharp in a way that has Phichit subconsciously straightening his spine—a reaction he’s only ever had with a handful of his ballet instructors. The expression on Yuuri’s face is unlike anything Phichit would have expected from Yuuri, and he feels heat rising to his cheeks underneath Yuuri’s stare until, finally, Yuuri nods slowly, “Okay, I’ll watch.”

He’d been expecting a refusal, so it takes several moments for the words to sink in, for Phichit to realize that Yuuri _agreed_ before he jolts into action, “Oh, uh, I have to stretch really fast.”

The sharp look leaves Yuuri’s face, replaced by the reserved smile Phichit is more used to, and he slides to a seat against the back wall, pulling his phone from the front of his backpack, “Don’t mind me.”

Yuuri says it like it would be the easiest thing in the world for Phichit to ignore his presence. Like Yuuri isn’t so electrifying that Phichit had a hard time getting to sleep last night, like he doesn’t look ridiculously attractive in the fitted black exercise shirt and matching yoga pants that he wore for dancing, like his position on the back wall doesn’t put him directly in Phichit’s line of sight thanks to the massive wall of mirrors directly across.

Suddenly having Yuuri watch him dance feels like the stupidest idea Phichit has ever had, but he flashes a smile at Yuuri, plops his bag down by the door and begins his stretches. Settled in front of the mirror (that he’s supposed to use to check his form) Phichit runs his gaze over Yuuri’s face, frowning slightly.

“Where are your glasses?”

Glancing up from his phone, Yuuri meets Phichit’s gaze in the mirror, “Contacts. I don’t like wearing them when I’m dancing.” Nose scrunching, he adds, “I can’t wear them for long though, they get uncomfortable so I prefer my glasses.”

“Your glasses are cute,” Phichit muses, before realizing what he said and rushing to continue, “I mean, you look nice without them too.”

The corner of Yuuri’s mouth quirks slightly. If he notices Phichit’s inner turmoil, he masks it well because he merely murmurs, “Thanks.”

Dropping his eyes down to the floor, Phichit resolves to finish the rest of his stretches in silence. If he opens his mouth now, he’s not sure what will come out, and it’s such a contrast to how he’s used to being the one who puts others at ease, who fills awkward pauses and silences without trouble, the person who is able to help pay his bills by the fact that he’s easy to be around. He was able to do that last night just fine, but something about being alone with Yuuri in a dance studio—the place where Phichit pours his heart and soul into every day—makes him feel like he can’t even form a proper sentence.

When his limbs finally feel loose and his muscles warm, Phichit digs his phone out of his bag and walks to the back corner of the room to connect it to the speakers. After flicking through his music to find[ the correct song](https://open.spotify.com/track/6gMuOzoUWF2jD8Vz39SBk6), he turns to look at Yuuri.

“Ready?”

Yuuri nods, smiling softly, “Ready.”

Phichit presses play and rushes to the middle of the room to get in his starting pose. He takes a deep inhale as soft piano notes fill the room and moves in the beat of silence, stepping forward to turn on the arch of his foot. Letting Yuuri’s gaze fall away from his consciousness, Phichit dances.

The piece and theme were given to him by his teacher, but Phichit fell in love with the music at first listen. The builds and drops help him move in tune, the song had seemed to choreograph itself when he first took the time to put a body to the dance. In turn, the movements that called to him, the transitions from element to element, were more technically challenging that Phichit normally would have tried when such a short amount of time to put the solo together. Brow crinkling slightly as he watches his feet through a tricky sequence, Phichit feels his grasp on the song’s emotion fading away and has to push back a rush of irritation that he still isn’t quite capturing the feeling he’s meant to evoke.

When he comes to a stop, the song fading away, Phichit lets out a slight sigh, “I need to present it in ten days, but I can’t capture _philautia.”_

“Phil- what?”

With a soft snort, Phichit turns to face Yuuri, “ _Philautia._ It’s a Greek phrase, a word for self-love and acceptance. We’re having a charity showcase and I was asked to do a piece. Madame Baranovskaya selected my theme and music, she said I needed a challenge.” Drumming his fingers on his hips, Phichit mutters, “and she did a good job too because this isn’t working.”

Yuuri frowns, expression thoughtful, “Well, I’d say you’re trying too hard to make it perfect.”

“You don’t know Madame Baranovskaya.”

A laugh startles Phichit out of his brooding, and he blinks, wondering what exactly was so funny. Yuuri pushes himself to his feet, “It’s not like you’re dancing for the Bolshoi, and I don’t know much about the idea of phila-”

“ _Philautia,_ ” Phichit supplies.

“-that word,” Yuuri continues, still smiling as he crosses the room to Phichit’s phone, “but I’m pretty sure part of it is not beating yourself up when you make a mistake during the solo.”

Eyes wide, Phichit asks, “You noticed?”

Shrugging, attention fixed on the phone, Yuuri murmurs, “It’s a familiar feeling. Can I see it again, with you focusing more on the music than the steps?”

Phichit nods, “Sure.”

The piano notes fill the room again, and Phichit lets his eyes flutter shut: he knows the steps to this routine, has been practicing it during all of his free-time for two weeks, he can focus on the music instead. He flows into the first movement almost instinctively and begins the dance.

It _feels_ like a different dance, the music echoing through his body down to the tips of his toes and deep to his core, and when Phichit comes to a rest in his final movement, he can’t keep a grin from spreading across his face. Whirling to face Yuuri, he breathes, “That’s it.”

Yuuri rewards him with a beaming smile of his own, “It looks amazing, Phichit.”

“I’d watch what’s leading during your penché,” the voice comes from the door, and Phichit turns to see Minako leaning against the door, “lead with your leg, not your torso.” Phichit’s posture straightens immediately under her scrutiny, but she gives him a smile, “Yuuri’s right, it looks good when you focus on the music.”

“Except he’s your student and I shouldn’t be giving him any advice,” Yuuri protests, arms crossed over his chest as he fixes her with a withering look.

Minako laughs, “If he needed technical advice he would’ve asked me for it already. He asked _you.”_

Yuuri responds in rapid Japanese, which has another laugh leaving the older woman before she glances at Phichit, “We have thirty minutes left. Do you want me to kick him out?”

Rapidly, Phichit shakes his head, “He can stay.” Glancing at Yuuri, he adds, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“He wants to,” Minako answers for Yuuri, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind herself, “Yuuri, rewind the song about halfway so I can have him walk a section. Phichit, back to center for that penché.”

“Yes, sensei,” the response is echoed, Yuuri saying it at the same time the words leave Phichit’s mouth, and Phichit grins as he moves to the requested position.

This was definitely worth not sleeping in this morning.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is dancing to [_Nightingale_](https://open.spotify.com/track/6gMuOzoUWF2jD8Vz39SBk6) by Lo Mimieux. I tried to find a clip of it on youtube to no avail but if you have spotify I would give it a listen!
> 
> When I set out to write this chapter it was without the intention to use as many ballet terms as I did but this is what I get for making Phichit a ballet student so I've linked each term with an image or gif that shows what I'm referring to:
> 
> [fouetté turns into a pirouette](https://www-tc.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/files/2015/10/Billy-Elliot-Gif5.gif) 
[Diagram on Minako's critique on Phichit's penché.](https://ballethub.com/ballet-lesson/penche-leading-arabesque-leg-upper-body) 



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit auditions his solo. Yuuri gets some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo....it's been a while........ This is the first fic I've written in years without starting with some kind of outline so when I hit a snag and my life went a bit haywire I got demoralized. _But_ some kind people left me a couple really sweet messages about this fic so I brushed myself off and I am ready to hunker down and finish this! Here's a much longer chapter as an apology for the wait.
> 
> Also I made a fic playlist for this story ages ago and just never got around to posting it. If you're interested you can listen to it on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/writingfromtheshadows/playlist/1G2kIWeyf97ZdnxmI7Kyuj?si=6C9RBgw_QTCYfasH5m4-vg).

Waiting in the hallway of the fine arts building, Phichit flicks through his phone as he absentmindedly stretches, trying his best to stay limber as he waits for his name to be called. Around him, other dancers are doing much the same—pacing up and down the hall, walking through their programs, generally attempting to maintain the looseness that comes from a good warm up and stretches despite the fact that some of them will likely be waiting for hours.

Glancing up from his phone, Phichit shifts positions and studies the people around him. More than a handful are in his year, people he would call friends. Just as many are either younger or older, not dancers he's at all familiar with, yet they're all vying for the same spots.

Despite everyone in the dance program being required to audition for the upcoming showcase, that fifteen students from each grade level were asked to prepare solo auditions, the reality is that only five soloists will be selected.

Phichit never stops being amazed by how years of training and hundreds of thousands of dollars spent all boil down to one three-minute audition. It's the only way to really make work as a dancer, and he's not sure if the odds ever get easier.

His phone flashes with an incoming message, and Phichit glances back down, leaning forward into his stretch so he's nearly flat against the ground to read the text.

_[18:10] Yuuri_   
_Your audition is tonight right?_   
_Good luck!_

"What's the dopey grin for, 'Chit?"

Glancing up, Phichit shrugs at the young woman who drops opposite him. Vibrant red hair is pulled up into a bun and green eyes study Phichit curiously. "Nothing much."

"Yeah, I'm not buying it," Mila replies, grinning mischievously in a way that makes Phichit regret befriending her in the first week of the new term.

Despite being an incoming freshman, Mila's reputation preceded her to the university, landing her in higher-level dance classes from the start. On the nights when Phichit's body is particularly sore from his extra tutoring, he wistfully longs for the ballet boot camps Mila endured as a child, regardless of her more than colorful adjectives about the experience.

Swinging her leg out and around so she's in a split, Mila braces her elbows on the floor, propping her chin on her hands as she considers him. "I would say it's a cute boy if I didn't know for a fact that you're a workaholic. Hamster pictures again?"

Rolling his eyes, Phichit is unable to resist the urge to needle back, "As a matter of fact, it is a cute boy."

He regrets it immediately because Mila's eyes widen and her lips curl into a smirk, "I want a name, I want a picture, and I want details."

"Phichit Chulanont, you're on deck." His name is called by the teaching assistant, and Phichit all but springs to his feet, eager to avoid the conversation.

As he grabs his bag and moves closer to the audition room, Mila says, "Don't think you're getting out of this Chulanont. I'm getting answers!"

Phichit raises his hand to acknowledge the statement as he rushes away, more than aware that Mila will persist until she knows as much as she can dig out of him about the subject. He comes to a stop next to the door to the auditions, putting down his bag and trying to ease the flutter of nerves in his stomach.

He is prepared for this. He’s been diligent in studying his technique, he took Madame Baranovskaya’s notes on the difficulty she expects from his program and re-figured the choreography until he was confident it would meet her exacting standards. He spent an hour just this past Saturday running through the program again and again for Minako, and he  _finally_  can feel the emotion of his theme thanks to Yuuri’s help.

It’s all of these things that allow Phichit to take a calming breathe and push his nerves to the side. His back is straight, shoulders square, as he steps through the door that the assistant holds open for him. It’s easy to smile at the panel of judges and to take his place on the mark in the middle of the floor.

“Please state your name, grade, piece and theme for the panel.” The speaker is a woman near the end of the table, Phichit assumes she’ll be the stage manager for the showcase.

“Phichit Chulanont, junior. I’ll be dancing to Nightingale by Lo Mimieux. My theme is  _philautia_.”

The stage manager glances at the panel, checking to see if they’re prepared, before pressing play on the remote in her hand. 

Piano notes flow from the speakers from around the room, and Phichit takes another breathe, relaxing his muscles. He moves in the beat of silence, stepping forward into a turn, and he  _performs_. Each step comes naturally, his muscles remembering long hours of practice as the sound of the music rolls through Phichit in a soothing fashion. There’s no other sound besides the build of the piano notes and the light pats of his feet. The reassurance that he is more than capable of doing this piece to its full potential extends through each of his limbs, and Phichit can’t hold back a slight smile as he moves.

When the music fades away, Phichit almost wishes he could tug it back and keep dancing.

Light applause pulls him out of his reverie, and Phichit leaves his final position to take a slight bow. When the clapping stops, Madame Baranovskaya says, “I can see your lessons with Okukawa are paying off. Your portrayal of  _philautia_  was well emoted.”

The compliment from the former prima is monumental, and Phichit inclines his head in gratitude, “Her guidance has been extremely helpful, particularly with this piece.”

Madame Baranovskaya gives a curt nod, “We will, of course, take time to consider all of our applicants. Our list of soloists will be posted no later than the end of the week.”

“Thank you for your time,” Phichit says, smiling again at the panel before leaving the room.

He’s beaming from ear-to-ear as he leaves the fine arts building and makes his way to the bus stop. Just two weeks ago he’d been in despair about his ability to do justice to his theme.

Pulling out his phone, he taps out a message to Yuuri.

_[18:32] Phichit_   
_just got out of my audition and it felt amazing!_   
_thank you for your help_

A response comes almost immediately, and Phichit wonders if Yuuri was waiting to hear about his audition before he pushes the thought away. Why would Yuuri spend time wondering about his audition anyways?

_[18:32] Yuuri_   
_I knew you’d kill it. I didn’t do anything special, it was all you!_

Phichit didn’t think it was possible for his grin to get any wider, but it does. His fingers hover over his keyboard, wanting to articulate that Yuuri 100% did make a difference but already getting used to Yuuri’s tendency to brush compliments aside.

_[18:33] Yuuri_   
_Do you know when they’ll announce the soloists?_

_[18:33] Phichit_   
_sometime this week_

_[18:33] Yuuri_   
_Let me know when you get the good news!_

The arrival of Phichit’s bus prevents him from replying right away. Swiping his pass and finding a seat near a window, Phichit is surprised to get another notification.

_[18:34] Yuuri_   
_Also, i’m not sure if i’m supposed to send this to you on the app?_   
_Chris is having people over to watch a football match on saturday and demanded that I bring you along._   
_Any chance you’re available?_

A football match with the boisterous personalities that make up Yuuri’s office-mates sounds just like the kind of chaos Phichit enjoys. After checking his calendar to make sure he doesn’t already have something booked, Phichit replies: 

_[18:37] Phichit_   
_technically it’s all supposed to be in-app_   
_but I’ll make an exception for my only fake bf ;)_   
_sounds fun! time and details?_

_[18:38] Yuuri_   
_The match starts at four. I’ll get his address tomorrow._

Letting his head rest on the back of his seat, Phichit shoots off a couple ‘thumbs up’ emoji and drops his phone into his lap.

He just performed his solo to the best of his ability. He’s confident he’s at least in the running to get one of the slots for the showcase. And he’ll be seeing Yuuri again on Saturday.

Not bad for a Tuesday night.

 

* * *

 

_[group chat] ‘chit’s (temp) cheer squad_

[13:15] Phichit  
image: [charity showcase performer’s list]

[13:15] Seung-gil  
Wait  
Is that...?

[13:16] Leo  
OMFG MAN  
U GOT A SOLO???? 

[13:16] Guang-Hong  
ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ  
congrats!!!! knew you’d get it!!!

[13:17] Seung-gil  
Well of course he’d get in  
He’s one of the best performers in the program

[13:17] Phichit  
lmao yea according to my mother

[13:18] Seung-gil  
Actually if you pay attention to the makeup of the program  
It’d be fairly obvious.  
It only took me a semester to figure it out

[13:19] Leo  
dude, can we enjoy the moment for a bit b4 you start spouting math equations?

[13:19] Guang-Hong  
we have to go celebrate! Tonight???

[13:19] Phichit  
sure!  
i can’t stay out late tho

[13:20] Seung-gil  
You have rehearsal Saturday

[13:20] Leo  
u have rehearsal saturday

[13:20] Guang-Hong  
you have rehearsal saturday

[13:20] Phichit  
i have rehearsal saturday  
............  
hold up  
you can’t make fun of me  
 we’re celebrating my accomplishment!!  
what happened to being my cheer squad????

_[13:21] leo has changed the chat name to ‘chit roast squad 4ever_

[13:21] Seung-gil  
^^^^^^

[13:21] Guang-Hong  
(＾艸＾)

[13:22] Phichit  
you’re all so cruel!  
o(╥﹏╥)

 

* * *

 

[13:22] Phichit  
image: [charity showcase performer’s list]  
i got a solo spot!

[13:25] Yuuri  
Congrats!!  
I knew you’d get in!  
Your piece is incredible!  
Wait, I just read the list again...you’re performing twice?

[13:26] Phichit  
haha, yup!  
minako-sensei is choreographing a duet  
she asked to have me dance it

[13:27] Yuuri  
........  
I wonder if that has anything to do with her insisting I come to the studio tomorrow morning

[13:27] Phichit  
(ﾟoﾟ) you’re coming to the studio tomorrow?

[13:28] Yuuri  
She’s been pestering me for days  
Minako-sensei is very persistent

[13:28] Phichit  
you should come!

[13:30] Yuuri  
I’ll probably be in the way

[13:32] Phichit  
i think she’s nicer to me when you’re there  
idk if i can survive a regular Minako practice tomorrow  
pls save me

[13:35] Yuuri  
Ahhh, okay, I’ll be there

[13:35] Phichit  
٩(^ᴗ^)۶

 

* * *

 

There's a lot to be said about how much having an on-call fake boyfriend can really perk up one's social life.

(Not that Yuuri wants to dwell on it long enough to evaluate what it says about him: he just knows it says a lot.)

It's probably extremely telling that it took Yuuri six months and one pay-by-the-hour boyfriend before he exchanged phone numbers with any of his coworkers. That in a mere month of going out with his colleagues less than once a week he suddenly knows so much more about them than he managed to parse out on his own. And they aren't details that take Phichit more than a few seconds to find out, like the fact that more than a handful of the people Yuuri's shared an office with for half-a-year somehow all follow competitive figure skating. That Yuuri isn't the only person who moved to America for university and never moved back home.

He has so much more in common with them all besides video games that Yuuri feels silly for never trying to get to know them beyond small talk and business matters.

In his defense, Yuuri isn't sure he would have the energy to be around the big personalities of his office-mates if it weren't for Phichit acting as a buffer. It's Phichit who notices when Yuuri falls quiet—his social battery drained for the evening—and it is Phichit who produces an excuse and has them leaving in record time after Yuuri reaches his limit.

When Yuuri is struggling to mask his yawns on a Saturday afternoon, mingling with a handful of the game team had been invited to watch a football match at Chris, it's Phichit who tugs Yuuri to his feet mere seconds afterward, bemoaning the fact that he has to finish a paper and wishing they could stay longer. Yuuri barely has time to get his feet under him before they're out the door.

When Yuuri asks, "I thought you didn't have a bunch of homework this weekend?”— more than a little confused because Yuuri did check beforehand and would have rather gone by himself than interfere with Phichit's school work, he's greeted with a laugh.

"You were going to fall asleep if we stayed there much longer. It was a good excuse," Phichit explains, bumping his shoulder lightly against Yuuri's as they walk down the street toward the bus stop Phichit catches to get home. Yuuri is briefly jealous of the younger man’s seemingly boundless energy considering that he’d borne witness to Minako working him hard in the dance studio just this morning.

Stifling another yawn, Yuuri gives him a sleepy smile, “You’re really good at this.”

Phichit winks, “You’re paying me double my usual rate, so I can’t slack off.”

Yuuri figures there should be a part of him that finds the arrangement uncomfortable, but Phichit is just so easy to be around that Yuuri can’t be bothered to think twice about it. Besides, Mari finds it weird enough for the both of them, as she makes abundantly clear after Phichit's third time tagging along as Yuuri's ‘boyfriend’.

Halfway through describing the look on Phichit’s face when the younger man realized ‘game night’ was not, in fact, a quiet evening of board games but rather the barely contained mayhem of two dozen game engineers facing off in the hottest titles on all the major consoles, Yuuri trails off with a frown.

“Why are you giving me that look?”

Mari shrugs, “It’s a little weird.”

“Tons of people compete against each other in video games,” Yuuri retorts.

Rolling her eyes, Mari leans back in her seat, “I’m not talking about you and your fellow game nerds. I’m talking about the fact that you’re still pretending he’s your boyfriend. How much are you paying him?”

“Twenty dollars an hour.”

It’s a lie.

While Yuuri paid Phichit $20 an hour for trivia night, he knows how much money it costs to pursue dancing as a career. He’s seen the way Phichit’s shoes are starting to look threadbare, as if Phichit is due for replacements but is trying to use them as long as possible. And Yuuri makes more money than he really knows what to do with, so he insisted on a higher rate (on top of a flat fee, for the times when Yuuri needs to leave earlier than he planned on).

“I mean, it’s more than just hanging out with me for two or three hours,” Yuuri explains this out loud, using the same excuse he gave Phichit, “he’s learned things about me so he can answer everyone’s questions and asks me things about them so it’s believable. It’s not easy to lie to people for hours.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Mari says, “If it’s so hard to lie to people for hours why are you going to keep it up?”

“This was your idea.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it,” Mari replies, “let alone keep paying him. Can’t you just have a fake breakup and move on?”

With a shrug of his own Yuuri says, “I will, later.”

His sister lets out a slight snort, but the fond look that crosses her face isn’t unfamiliar as she says, “Whatever, just...don’t get too attached.”

“I’ll be fine, nee-san,” Yuuri sighs.

When the call ends, Yuuri finds himself staring at his laptop screen, frowning slightly.

He’s not getting attached.

It’s just a couple of dates. It’s just having Phichit around long enough for Yuuri to feel comfortable with his coworkers in a social setting, until Yuuri doesn’t need a buffer to handle all of their energy.

Besides, he can’t monopolize Phichit’s time. Yuuri doesn’t doubt Phichit probably gets dozens of inquiries from other people on the Rent a Friend site. It’s honestly a miracle that Phichit has even been available each time he asked.

“It’s just a couple of dates. Fake dates,” Yuuri mumbles to himself, saying it out loud for good measure.

Clicking away from his Skype app, Yuuri absently selects a video game to pull his mind away from Mari’s concerns. There’s no point in getting down about a good thing while he still has it.

 

* * *

 

“Are you texting that cute boy of yours?” The question makes Phichit jump slightly, and he looks up from his phone to glare at Mila. She gives him an innocent smile and tilts her head, falling into step with him easily, “it’s been three whole weeks since you told me you have one and I haven’t heard a peep about him since.”

“Your obsession with my love life is a little weird, Mila,” Phichit replies, pocketing his phone.

“You’re always working, ‘Chit. I can’t even get you to come to the lamest of parties on the weekends. Can you blame me for being curious?”

He really can’t, but Phichit doesn’t admit as much to her. Completely undeterred, she links her arm through his as if trying to prevent Phichit from speeding up and dodging the conversation once again.

Her voice gets airy as she muses, “It almost makes me think you just made him up. Is he coming to the showcase?”

“Is who coming to the showcase?” Another voice pipes up from Phichit’s other side, and he glances over to see Leo, tugging an earphone free so he can hear their conversation.

Mila glances past Phichit to squint curiously at Leo, “You’re his roommate?”

“One of them,” Leo confirms. “Mila, right?”

She nods. “So, Phichit claims he has a cute boy on retainer but won’t tell me anything about him.”

Phichit tries to plead to Leo with his eyes, but an impish smile curls on Leo’s lips that spells doom for any hope Phichit has of deterring Mila’s rampage.

“Is that what Phichit claims?” Leo says, sounding way too amused, and Phichit promptly resolves to super-glue the caps of all Leo’s hair products shut at the soonest opportunity.

“Can you confirm or deny?” Mila prods.

Leo shrugs, “I only met Yuuri a few weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since honestly.”

Mila stops walking, a smile matching Leo’s curling onto her lips as green eyes spark with excitement. In the next breath, she’s dragging Phichit off the path to stand on the grass of the quad to continue her interrogation, “His name is Yuuri? What does he study?”

Phichit sighs, “He’s not a student. Graduated.”

“Oh? An older man?” She glances to Leo, who followed them off the path, “What does he do?”

With a shrug, Leo replies, “Dunno, what does he do ‘Chit?”

Phichit is going to make sure Leo vanishes. He’s going to erase all traces of Leo’s existence from memory and he would do it this instant if he could.

“Yuuri’s a video game programmer. He works for Monsoon Entertainment.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Mila asks, “That’s not the company making that huge new virtual reality multi-player game, is it?”

The question catches Phichit off-guard, and he turns from trying to glare a hole into Leo’s head to stare at Mila, “He’s part of the development team for that. How did you-”

“I have a family friend that’s obsessed,” Mila replies, clearly not interested in delving into the topic more. “Do you have a picture of Yuuri? I need to see this guy.”

“No, I don’t.”

Mila drops Phichit’s arm and steps around so she’s standing between Phichit and Leo, “Clearly Leo and I need to be better friends since you won’t tell me anything, Phichit.”

“It’s really not-”

“What does he look like?”

“What does who look like?” Guang-Hong hops off the path, waving at the group.

“No one,” Phichit says.

“Yuuri,” Mila replies in the same breath.

Guang-Hong tilts his head, looking up thoughtfully, “We only saw him the one time, but he was handsome. I think he’s...Japanese?”

Everyone looks to Phichit, who reluctantly nods his head in confirmation.

Mila whips out her phone, “So Yuuri works for Monsoon Entertainment, he’s got to have a LinkedIn or someth- hot damn.” She looks up at Phichit, eyes wide, “How the hell did you find someone like him and just...not say anything? He’s adorable.”

And Phichit has thoroughly scoured social media for a trace of Yuuri’s presence, so the fact that Mila somehow managed to find Yuuri in seconds is enough for him to abandon his current predicament to pluck Mila’s phone from her hand.

It’s a professional picture. Yuuri’s hair is gelled back and his hands stuffed in the pockets of gray trousers. A pale blue button up and gray waistcoat show off a dancer’s physique, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

Adorable isn’t exactly the first word that springs to Phichit’s mind...

“Give it back,” Mila laughs, reclaiming her phone, “that’s your boy toy, you know what he looks like. I, on the other hand, have been cruelly kept in the dark.” She studies the picture on screen again before meeting Phichit’s gaze, “alright, Phichit. I don’t know how you found him but I have to admit it’s a job well done. He is coming to the showcase, right?”

Phichit shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“You should invite him!” Guang-Hong says. “Didn’t you tell us he does ballet too?”

“That settles it, he has to come,” Mila announces, glancing back at her phone as it starts ringing, “no excuses, Phichit! I have to see this mystery boy with my own two eyes.” She’s jumping back onto the path, bringing her phone to her ear before Phichit can even form a protest.

The moment she’s out of earshot, Phichit whirls on his two roommates, “Guys, you can’t betray me like this. You know we’re not dating.”

Leo shrugs, “You’ve seen him every weekend for almost a month. You might as well be dating.”

“We’re pretending to date,” Phichit protests, “that’s the whole point.”

Scratching his head, Guang-Hong asks, “But don’t you see him other times too? You said he was at your rehearsals a couple of times. And you went to coffee that one day, and-”

“Okay, you’ve made your point,” Phichit mutters, cutting his friend off and typing out a message, pressing send before he can talk himself out of it. Turning the screen around so his obnoxious meddling roommates can see, he waves at the sent text, “Happy?”

_[11:05] Phichit_   
_hey!_ _i know it’s a few weeks out..._   
_but any chance you’d be interested in coming to the showcase?_

“Why are you guys just standing here?” Seung-gil asks, coming up from behind Phichit.

Leo grins, “We just talked Phichit into inviting Yuuri to the showcase.”

“About time,” Seung-gil says.

Phichit groans, “I hate all of you.”

_[11:06] Yuuri_   
_Of course! I’d love to come :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is platonic sugar daddy a thing bc I think Yuuri might be accidentally becoming one...
> 
> Also! I'm looking for some more people to follow on my twitter [@lovingnikiforov](https://twitter.com/lovingnikiforov) and I would _love_ some more phichuuri peeps (whether it's platonic or shippy idc).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit's showcase looms closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the fic playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/writingfromtheshadows/playlist/1G2kIWeyf97ZdnxmI7Kyuj?si=6C9RBgw_QTCYfasH5m4-vg)

[14:03] Minako-sensei  
Busy tomorrow? 

[14:04] Yuuri  
Not particularly.  
Why?

[14:05] Minako-sensei  
I need an assistant to run through some choreography

[14:06] Yuuri  
.....don’t you hire actual dancers for that?

[14:07] Minako-sensei  
It’s early, before their shifts.  
Besides none of them have been learning my choreography since they could walk like you have. You’ll pick it up faster.

[14:07] Yuuri  
Sensei....

[14:08] Minako-sensei  
Ah well, if you’re not interested it can’t be helped.

[14:40] Minako-sensei  
By the way, I was just speaking with your mother.  
She seems so worried about your social life.  
I mentioned you’re doing fine, you really should call reassure her, Yuuri.  
It’s getting hard to keep explaining away your new social calendar without bringing up your boyfriend.

[14:50] Yuuri  
Fake boyfriend!

[14:51] Minako-sensei  
Of course.  
Fake boyfriend  
I’m sure she’ll take that news a lot better.

[14:52] Yuuri  
........  
This is blackmail. 

[14:53] Minako-sensei  
Can you get here at 7?  
AM

[15:01] Yuuri  
I’ll be there.

 

* * *

 

 

In Phichit’s opinion, any time before ten o’clock on a Saturday morning is a cursed time.

Groaning as his alarm clock chirps at him, Phichit tries not to grumble to himself too much as he rolls out of bed and trudges to the shower. With the showcase looming closer, his spare time has been dominated by dancing to a degree that is almost cruel. The warm water only does so much to ease sore muscles but Phichit gets dressed, picks up his dance bag, grabs a protein bar, and heads out the door without delay.

The walk to Minako’s studio is quick and quiet: Phichit’s sure every other sensible human being is still resting soundly in bed. He’s just stepping inside the door when his phone vibrates with a message:

 _[7:40] Mila_  
_grabbing smoothie on way 2 studio. want one?_

 _[7:40] Phichit_  
_how can you eat this early in the morning?_

 _[7:41] Mila_  
_....so I’ll take that as a no_

 _[7:41] Phichit_  
_（￣ε_ _￣）_

 _[7:42] Mila_  
_lmao, see u in 10_

Glancing up, Phichit frowns at the empty reception desk. “Minako-sensei?”

No one replies.

Shrugging to himself, Phichit heads down the hall leading to the studio rooms. Music floats into the corridor and he can faintly hear someone speaking. Making his way toward the sound, Phichit steps into the room, opening his mouth to call for his tutor again.

She’s airborne, being lifted across the depth of the studio floor as her body curls into itself in a near fetal position. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist is Yuuri, and Phichit briefly thanks the universe for whatever good karma he incurred that led to this moment. Leaning against the door frame, he lets his gaze linger for just a moment on unfairly well-developed biceps as Yuuri lets Minako down without more than a soft patter of feet.

“That’s good,” Minako says as she’s set on her feet, “I wonder if it would look better with the lift shortened just a bit so that next picture has time to breathe.”

Thanks to the mirrors directly across the door, Phichit can see Yuuri frown thoughtfully as he tilts his head, “End the lift on beat three instead of four?”

Minako grins, “This is why I asked for you, you know me so well.”

With a huff, Yuuri replies, “You already had it all but finished.”

“I needed someone who can dance emotionally and isn’t caught up in the technicalities too much,” she retorts.

“So, your actual employees dance too well for this job?”

Shaking her head, Minako hums, “Always so negative. Are you going to stand there all morning or get stretching, student of mine?”

The last sentence is directed at Phichit, Minako glancing over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him. Phichit steps inside fully, giving her a sheepish smile, “I didn’t want to interrupt.” A single finger is pointed to the side wall and Phichit raises his hands in surrender and rushes further into the studio, waving quickly at Yuuri before placing his things down and beginning to stretch.

He’s seemingly forgotten in the next moment, Minako walking to speakers as she says, “How are those lifts for you? Too many at the end?”

“I’ll be tired later but I’m not a professional dancer.”

“You should come practice more, sitting at a desk all day is bad for you. I have several beginner’s classes you could teach.”

“ _Minako-sensei_ ,” Phichit bites back a laugh at how exasperated Yuuri sounds, as if this conversation has been rehashed a dozen times, “I like the job that I have now. Making games is fun.”

“So you say. It’s a shame to waste talent like yours at a desk job.”

“Knock knock,” a new voice cuts into the argument, “am I in the right place for the duet rehearsal?”

Whirling to face the door, Minako waves Mila into the room, “You’re Babicheva, yes?”

Mila steps inside and shakes the offered hand, “I’m looking forward to working with you Madame Okukawa.”

“Just Minako is fine,” comes the predictable correction, “your partner is stretching by the wall. Feel free to join him, we’ll start in ten minutes or so.” Green eyes flick to where Phichit is settled on the ground and Mila waves at him as Minako continues, “I’ve been told you’re quick with picking up choreography, I didn’t water down the difficulty of the routine at all so we’ll be moving fast. This is-”

“Yuuri, right?” Mila cuts in as Minako motions to the man in question, an all too familiar impish smile stretching across her face as she slowly scans him. Phichit mentally apologizes to Yuuri as the man shifts slightly under the scrutiny.

Eyes wide, Yuuri glances over at Phichit, “He’s mentioned me?”

“In passing. I thought you were just coming to the showcase, but you’re involved?”

Shaking his head, Yuuri explains, “Minako-sensei asked me to help with some choreography, it wasn’t until I showed up that she told me what it was for. It’s nice to meet you, Mila.”

Mila’s smile widens and she echoes the sentiment before striding across the studio space to drop her bag and half-finished smoothie next to Phichit’s belongings. She slips down to a seat on the floor and murmurs (none too quietly), “He’s even cuter in person.”

Phichit feels heat rushing to his cheeks and he ducks his head down to rest against the tops of his knees, “Please shut up.”

“Why does he know who I am when you hardly say anything about him?” Mila asks, definitively not shutting up.

“Because you’re too nosey and if I tell you anything you start pestering to know everything,” Phichit says, getting to his feet and turning to face the barre.

Mila laughs slightly. “Ouch, that stings.”

Shaking his head at his friend’s antics, Phichit leans into a stretch. Behind him, Minako and Yuuri are speaking quietly, evidently moving past their earlier disagreement to talk through a few more changes in the routine. It takes a few seconds of listening and not understanding a single word said before Phichit realizes they’ve changed languages, murmuring in rapid Japanese.

Breathing into the stretch, Phichit lets the conversation roll over him. Without the distraction of being bogged down trying to understand their words, he can listen to the cadence of Yuuri’s voice. There’s a sort of confidence in how Yuuri speaks to the former ballerina that Phichit hasn’t heard much from the older man, and he smiles lightly to himself at how nice it suits Yuuri.

Fingers click in front of him and Phichit blinks, jolted out of his reverie to glare at Mila, “What?”

She lets out a low whistle, “You’ve got it bad.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jutting her thumb over her shoulder, Mila explains, “We’re all waiting for you to finish that stretch you’ve been in for almost five minutes now so we can start rehearsal.”

Letting his leg slid off the barre, Phichit turns to find that Minako and Yuuri are both looking expectantly at him, and his eyes widen, “Oh, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”

A knowing smile stretches across Minako’s face, but she doesn’t comment on the sudden (and out of character) airheaded display. Instead, she claps her hands together, "This is the first time in some years I'm choreographing a piece for one of the university's showcases so needless to say it needs to be spectacular and I expect the pair of you to take the audience's breath away. Here is the music."

Minako presses play on the small remote in her hand, and a familiar melody line flows through the studio.

"Hallelujah?" Mila asks, sounding underwhelmed, "isn't that a bit...overdone?"

"So is the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy," Minako hums, "yet you'd fly to Russia in a heartbeat if the Bolshoi asked you to perform the solo. Some pieces are classics for a reason, and nothing wins over an audience more than taking a well-known piece and performing it in a way they've never seen before."

She stops the music and props her hands on her hips, "I'm going to be frank: this piece is not just technical but it requires an emotional maturity many choreographers would not entrust to a pair of students. I could have easily selected some Tchaikovsky and put together a _pas de deux_ but I believe you can handle this."

Phichit raises an eyebrow, "So, we're not doing a _pas de deux_?"

It's what he had anticipated, considering Minako's former career as a prima ballerina and the fact that he and Mila both specialize in ballet. Phichit never spared a thought to the idea that he would not be learning a ballet duet this morning.

"No, you're dancing contemporary. That's why Yuuri is here." Both students glance at Yuuri, whose cheeks flush slightly pink under the sudden spotlight. "He's one of the most lyrically gifted dancers I've ever taught. Phichit, I expect you to pay attention to how he brings emotion to each movement. We'll refine the technical elements at our next rehearsal."

"Yes, sensei."

"Good. We'll show you the dance," Minako offers the remote to Phichit, who accepts it before stepping back so he’s pressed against the wall, Mila settling in next to with him.

The guitar notes flow from the speakers and Phichit's eyes widen as the pair move into the dance. Immediately, he understands the point of Minako's lecture: there is a raw pain and vulnerability to the dance that takes his breath away, makes him almost uncomfortable as he watches.

It took him weeks to find the emotion for his solo…this is even more complex than that piece in both technique and performance.

When the music comes to a close, Minako ruffles Yuuri's hair, looking pleased with him, before turning to face the students, "Well? Do you think you can handle it?"

Phichit glances over at Mila, who looks almost as overwhelmed as he feels. She clears her throat, "It's a challenge I look forward to."

Minako gives a curt nod, "Come down to center and we'll step through."

 

* * *

 

By the time Minako calls for a five-minute break, Phichit's head is spinning. He slumps to a seat against the side wall, cradling his water bottle as he tries to keep the steps of the routine straight despite the near dizzying speed at which they were taught.

Across the studio, Mila is asking Minako dozens of questions ranging anywhere from the concept behind the routine to Minako's career. Having been tutored (or tortured, depending on the day) by Minako for almost a year, Phichit sometimes forgets how star-struck he was by the ballerina on their first meeting.

"Minako-sensei says she doesn't like people fawning over her but I think she secretly likes it a little bit," the murmured comment comes from Yuuri, who takes a seat next to Phichit, watching the two women with a bemused grin.

"I get that impression sometimes," Phichit agrees, considering the pair a moment longer before turning his attention to Yuuri. "Do you think we can pull this off? We only have two weeks until the showcase."

Yuuri shrugs, "She thinks you can. Minako-sensei doesn't set up dancers to fail, she'd only teach the dance to you if she was confident you would do it justice."

"It's not my usual style of dancing."

A frown crosses Yuuri's face, brows drawing down in a slightly confused expression, "Contemporary?"

"No, this kind of emotion. I like doing upbeat pieces, things that are fun."

The frown vanishes as Yuuri chuckles, and Phichit tries not to dwell on the way brown eyes twinkle with amusement, "That sounds like you. You're a lot of fun."

"Don't tell Mila that, she'll start moaning about how all I ever do is work." He shrugs, letting his head drop back to rest against the wall, "Dancing is what I love but it's pretty expensive and really time-consuming. I'm not even sure I would have been able to do the showcase if it weren't for you."

"Me?"

Phichit hums in confirmation, "I can take fewer jobs on the weekends when I see you, it lets me spend more time on homework and practicing." He grins, "Is it bad of me to say that I'm glad you got backed into that corner where you needed a fake boyfriend?"

That pulls another laugh from Yuuri. Phichit thinks he could get quite used to hearing the sound. "It was my own fault, so I can't be mad. Plus, I'm better friends with them all now so it worked out in my favor."

Lightly bumping shoulders with Yuuri, Phichit jokes, "You don't even need me anymore."

Yuuri doesn't reply right away. His head ducks down, hiding his face. When he does speak, his voice is soft, "I have been monopolizing your weekends, sorry about that. It must be exhausting to keep up with their antics on top of your personal stuff."

The smile fades from Phichit's face at the tumble of words, confusion racing through him as he tries to understand what Yuuri is getting at.

"Just tell me when you're tired of me, I really don't mind if you-"

"Yuuri," Phichit cuts him off, turning so he can face the older man, "that's not what I meant. Didn't I just say that seeing you helps me take advantage of opportunities like this showcase?"

Head lifting so he can see Phichit, Yuuri shrugs slightly, "Yes, but-"

"I'm not getting tired of you," Phichit insists, "besides the fact that you're, by far, the best paying client I've ever had, I have a lot of fun whenever I go out with you." He grins, hoping he can crack through the sudden cloud of self-deprecation that seemed to swamp Yuuri out of nowhere, "you're going to have to block my number if you ever do want to get rid of me."

Yuuri blinks at him, looking completely stunned for a long moment before his lips curl up into a soft smile, "I'll take your word on that, Phichit."

Grin widening in relief, Phichit grabs Yuuri's arm, hugging it against his side as he says, "Fake boyfriend or not, I'd like to think we're real friends, so you'd better trust me on that."

"Hey, lovebirds!" The shout breaks the bubble, reminding Phichit that there are more people in the room besides him and Yuuri. He glances over to raise an expectant eyebrow at Mila.

She shakes her head and smirks, motioning to Minako, who says, "Your five minutes were up almost five minutes ago. Let's get to work."

"Yes, sensei," Phichit and Yuuri say obediently.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri scowls at his screen, nibbling on his bottom lip as he scrolls through this particular section of code for what feels like the twentieth time in one day. There are times when he questions why he would want to work in a field where the slightest typing error is the difference between a successful script and an error-riddled one.

“You’ve been wrestling with that code for hours, Yuuri,” the comment comes from Takeshi, who is taking a break in the seat next to him. “When is the last time you stretched your legs?”

“I’ve almost got it,” Yuuri mumbles, making a quick change before continuing to scroll. “We’re getting down to the wire on launch.”

Takeshi chuckles. “You can take your fifteen, man.”

Yuuri hums absently, frowning at another line before deleting it and replacing it with something else. There’s a sigh from beside him and Takeshi leans back in his seat, calling over to the next table, “Yuuko, come talk to him. You’re the only person he listens to.”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri protests, glancing up only long enough to see Yuuko looking up from her own screen curiously, “I’ll take a break at one.”

“It’s three.”

There’s no way that’s right. Exiting the full-screen mode on his editor, Yuuri blinks at the clock on the bottom right-hand corner. “Oh.”

Hands grip the back of Yuuri’s chair and pull him away from his desk before turning him around to face Yuuko. Biting his tongue to keep from protesting—because he’s used to several of his teammates lecturing him on his intense work habits and knows it’s done with faster if he just listens and nods—Yuuri pulls off his glasses and gives them a cursory wipe.

“How is progress going for you?” he asks as he settles his frames back on his nose.

“Are you only capable of talking about work?” Yuuko counters, the grin playing on her lips not doing a good job of making her scolding convincing. “It’s got to be unhealthy.”

“I talk about other things,” Yuuri protests, “but we  _are_  at work.”

Yuuko props her hands on her hips, tilting her head toward Takeshi, “We need to get him out of his apartment this weekend.”

“You say that every weekend,” Takeshi says.

“It’s true every weekend. I don’t know what you were doing before you started coming out with us, Yuuri, I find it hard to believe your boyfriend is the ‘quiet night in’ every weekend type.”

Shifting slightly in his chair, Yuuri mumbles, “He’s busy with homework and extra rehearsals.”

Yuuko rolls her eyes, “Honestly you’re probably just lucky that you’re adorable.”

Considering that Yuuri literally pays Phichit, he’s more than confident his looks have nothing to do with it. If anything, it’s more just a sign that he has a good job. A good job he should keep. A good job that he could keep secure if his friends (and it’s a little weird to think of them as friends now rather than coworkers, but it’s what they are) would stop interrupting his concentration.

Of course, he says none of that out loud, and merely shrugs.”I have plans this weekend.”

“Really?” Takeshi sounds more than a little skeptical.

Tossing an irritated look at the other man, Yuuri expands, “I’m going to see Phichit dance Saturday. He has a performance.”

“Performance...” Yuuko repeats, staring across the room as if trying to remember something. Suddenly, she perks up and calls, “Chris!”

Turning to look at the door, Yuuri sees Chris pass the programming room before backtracking and looking up from his phone, “Yes?”

She waves him over, and the designer meanders past the first pair of tables to stop next to Yuuri, raising an eyebrow in a question.

“Weren’t you the one who was talking to Phichit about an upcoming performance at game night?”

Yuuri vaguely remembers seeing Phichit and Chris chatting off to the side after both being knocked out from a Super Smash Bros competition. (Honestly, Phichit’s gaming skills could use some help).

Chris nods, “He said he had a solo for a charity showcase soon.”

She glances at Yuuri, who nods in confirmation, “It’s this weekend.”

“And you didn’t tell any of us? Yuuri, we adore Phichit, he’s so much fun. Not to mention that you know I danced when I was younger,” Yuuri’s not sure he did know that, but he merely shrugs helplessly. “Are tickets still available?”

“I don’t know?”

Yuuko huffs and mutters something about Yuuri being oblivious before turning back to Chris. Chris smiles amiably, “Viktor’s taking his brother, he mentioned they got tickets yesterday. He should have a link.”

“At least someone around here knows what’s going on,” Yuuko sighs, going back to her desk to presumably message Viktor for the link.

“Well...” Chris begins.

He’s cut off by Takeshi who mutters, “If you make some sly dig about being a designer in our territory you might regret it.”

Green eyes sparkle with mischief, and Chris merely turns on his heel, waving a hand lazily through the air as he strolls out, “Never crossed my mind, mon ami.”

Yuuri watches him go, before glancing at Yuuko to make sure she’s suitably distracted. Turning around, he returns to his work, frowning at the code once more.

“Usually people at least stand up during their break,” Takeshi says, sounding amused.

“I’ll do that later,” Yuuri mumbles, editing another line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In general terms, a pas de deux is a dance between two people. It's most commonly used to describe ballet duets.
> 
> I have a basic outline of where this fic is going to go but I'd love to hear from you! What sort of things are you most interested in seeing? Since I've never written for this pairing (and there are not many fics which is _tragic_ ) I'm flying a little blind here. 
> 
> Next up: Phichit and Yuuri's worlds kind of collide ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finally sees Phichit perform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely we're getting this ball rolling. On the plus side, I finally have a solid picture of how the fic is going to shape up, so cheers to that!
> 
> Also, I like watching people dance so there are a few routines linked below...

“Can we take it from the top?” The call comes from the wings, and Phichit bites back a smirk at the sighs that sound from around him.

Technical rehearsals are always a pain in the ass. After weeks of getting a piece together, rehearsing it until your muscles know it by memory—until each movement is note-perfect–there’s something uniquely frustrating about having to stop running a piece every minute because a light is in the wrong place, or a music queue was missed, or whatever the hell else they had to go back to the beginning of the show to run through again.

It’s only hour two of what is scheduled to be a six-hour rehearsal and as he rushes past the younger students Phichit vaguely wonders how they’re going to make it through the night.

“Quickly to your places dancers! We need to finish the opener!” The stage manager’s voice echoes over the speakers just as Phichit gets into place.

A classmate tosses him a wink as she runs past him, murmuring, “Are we having fun yet?”

Stifling a laugh, Phichit leans back into the shadows of the wings as they run the curtain announcements before the music for the opening group number begins.

It takes another twenty minutes before they move on from the group number and begin working individual routines. Finding his way offstage, Phichit drops into one of the seats near the side of the auditorium, idly watching as dancers start and stop their routines over and over again as stagehands rush around them.

Mila drops into the seat next to him, “We should be stretching or something.”

“They don’t need us to actually dance until tomorrow’s rehearsal,” Phichit says, “this is just for the tech crew.”

She hums in acknowledgment, flicking through her phone, “You never answered my text about the afterparty.”

Phichit glances over at her, frowning thoughtfully. In all honesty, the last couple weeks have been a blur of appointments, rehearsals, and homework. He’s hardly given a spare thought to any kind of socializing that didn’t include a paycheck at the end of the day.

“Afterparty?”

Rolling her eyes, Mila looks up at him. “For the showcase, to celebrate all of us for making it through this insanely condensed preparation process before we have to turn around and do it for the end of the year showcase in spring.”

It still doesn’t ring a bell and Phichit merely shrugs at her helplessly. “Sorry, must have missed when you sent the invite.”

“It’s Saturday at my place. Everyone else is coming, ‘Chit, I’m even getting the nice booze.”

“Define ‘nice booze’.”

She smirks, “It’s not bottom shelf. People should be grateful.”

“Thanks for the invite but-”

“Ah, no buts,” Mila cuts him off, “you haven’t appeared at a single party all semester and everyone wants you to come. You can’t possibly have something else planned.”

Slumping down in his seat, Phichit considers his friend from underneath his lashes, aware that Mila won’t let him alone until he goes to at least one of her parties. “If I come that means you’ll stop moaning about me never going to parties for the rest of the semester?”

“Everyone keeps telling me stories about how much fun you used to be and I want proof, Chulanont.”

Phichit gapes. “Used to be?”

She gets to her feet as the current routine comes to a close, moving toward the stairs to backstage as she says, “No one even sees you unless it’s for a school event. Face it, you’re washed up at 20.”

He glares at her retreating back, turning the words over in his head.

It’s sometimes odd to consider the contradiction between his work life and the rest of his life—the fact that he’s all but sacrificed any social interactions between work and school despite his work being a cycle of socializing. Phichit tries to remember the last time he went out on the weekend that wasn’t related to work and finds himself drawing a blank.

Of course, he’s not stuck at some 9-5 desk job. His work tends to be fun in itself. Even the occasionally overbearing client is manageable when most of Phichit’s appointments don’t last more than an hour. But, he can’t deny the nature of being an on-demand friend can be draining, even for someone as extroverted as he is. Evaluating his client’s personalities within minutes of meeting them and finding the quickest way to make sure everyone is confident isn’t as simple as a cheerful smile.

It’s why repeat customers can be a life-saver.

It’s why Phichit finally has time to breathe and, evidently, go to parties thrown by his meddling friends, now that he sees Yuuri almost every other week.

Letting out a slight huff of laughter, Phichit slumps further in his chair and refocuses on the dancers currently onstage. Vaguely, he wonders if he has time to take a nap before they get to one of his programs.

 

* * *

 

The charity showcase is extremely crowded.

When Yuuri steps into the lobby of the auditorium he immediately stumbles to a stop, eyes wide as he takes in the sheer mass of people milling about, waiting for the doors to open. Through the crowd to his right, he can see tables set out for a silent auction and almost directly in the middle of the lobby are fliers for the rest of the season’s shows.

While he’s certainly heard Phichit mention that the showcase was a rather large event all of those comments had been made in passing, usually immediately before Phichit loudly greeted one of Yuuri’s coworkers. It’s only now that Yuuri understands the magnitude of the performance.

“Yuuri!” He turns in the direction of the shout, a relieved smile pulling on his face when he sees Yuuko waving across the crowd.

Carefully, Yuuri crosses the lobby to where Yuuko stands next to Takeshi. “Did you two just get here?”

Yuuko nods, “We stopped by the store to get Phichit a card.” She holds up an envelope with the younger man’s name carefully written on the front. “You didn’t mention that Phichit is the big act.”

Brows furrowing in confusion, Yuuri asks, “What do you mean?”

“Helpless,” Yuuko mutters, opening her program and shifting so she’s standing directly next to him, pointing. “His duet, that you completely forgot to mention in the first place, is the last dance before intermission. His solo is the last number before the closing group routine. Those are the ‘star of the show’ positions, Yuuri. You should know this, don’t you dance?”

“Just for fun,” Yuuri mumbles, skimming the program to see that Yuuko is correct. “I didn’t know where he was dancing, he never said anything.”

She rolls her eyes, “At least you got him flowers so you’re not a completely lost cause.”

At the mention, Yuuri feels heat rise to his cheeks, and he holds the small bouquet closer to his chest. He had hovered outside a small flower shop, going back and forth over whether or not to go inside, for nearly twenty minutes—not entirely sure what was the proper decision considering that he and Phichit aren’t actually dating and haven’t known each other long enough to be called close friends. It had been a slightly frantic phone call to Minako, who informed him that if he didn’t get flowers for Phichit she’d personally drag him into the shop and make sure the ‘proper thing’ was done, that finally made up his mind.

A smile spreads across Yuuko’s face and she nudges him slightly. “You two are cute. I’m sure he’ll love them.”

The attention is shifted away from Yuuri’s steadily reddening face by Takeshi waving to someone behind Yuuri. He glances over his shoulder, smiling at Viktor who seems to glide through the crowd as if there’s twice as much space for him to maneuver than there really is.

“I’m surprised you two managed to get tickets so late,” Viktor says in greeting.

“They said there were only a handful left,” Yuuko admits, eyes dropping a few inches to beam at another newcomer. “Is this your little brother?”

Yuuri leans around Yuuko and is met with the sight of a scowling teenager with shoulder-length blond hair. The gaudy leopard print hoodie seems a bit out of place for a charity showcase, but almost completely hidden underneath the moody sulking of the boy, Yuuri recognizes the type of posture that gets ingrained in dancers from a young age.

Viktor is nodding, clapping the teen on the back, “Everyone, this is Yuri. Yuri, these are my coworkers in the programming department: Yuuko, Takeshi, and Yuuri.”

Yuri seems like he couldn’t care less what any of their names are, but he gives a slight nod of acknowledgment. Sharp eyes flick across all three programmer’s faces, and Yuuri swears that they linger on him slightly (a brief frown tugging on Yuri’s features before it’s tucked back behind his scowl).

“He’s adorable!” Yuuko says. “And you’re a dancer, right, Yuri? Are you interested in doing your program at this school?”

The look she gets in response is almost withering, and Yuuri scoots back slightly so he’s not in the line of the boy's stare. Although he knows looks can't cause physical harm, the weight of Yuri's disdain is almost tangible.

"Dancers come from all over the fucking world to train at this school," Yuri replies, sounding annoyed that he has to explain as much out loud, "working under Lilia Baranovskaya is a big deal."

Viktor rolls his eyes, "Language, Yura."

"I'm not a toddler, and you're not my parent," Yuri snaps back.

"Yet you're immature enough that we need to have this conversation in front of my colleagues," Viktor muses, completely unruffled by Yuri's behavior in a way that indicates this type of a conversation is normal between them.

"Hate to interrupt," Takeshi butts in, sounding entirely too bemused for how uncomfortable Yuuri finds their current situation, "but the doors are opening, we should go if we want to get good seats."

Yuuri all but makes a beeline for the doors, grateful that they avoided what could have become a scene between the two brothers. It isn't all that difficult to find a good group of seats, and Yuuri settles into one of the auditorium chairs, flipping open a program of his own.

It's mostly full of advertisements for the showcase sponsors and a long foreword about the refugee foundation picked as the season's charity. Turning pages rapidly, Yuuri pauses on the list of performances for the evening. As Yuuko showed him earlier, Phichit’s name is right before intermission (next to Mila’s) and right before the closing group routine. He finds Mila’s solo placed about halfway through the first half of the show and then again during the opening number with a group of ten or so other dancers (Phichit also included there).

“He’s doing four dances,” Yuuri mumbles to himself, slightly awed.

Between school and going on random outings with Yuuri and his coworkers—and no doubt picking up plenty of work from other clients as well—Phichit somehow had the time to learn and practice four dance routines.

Yuuri can barely go out once a week while working full-time.

“Yuuri!” Tugging his eyes away from the program, Yuuri glances over his shoulder to look at Viktor. The designer is holding open his program, pointing at Phichit’s duet. “He’s doing a program choreographed by the Minako Okukawa?”

Nodding, Yuuri explains, “She privately tutors him.”

“Who is ‘him’?” Viktor’s brother cuts in, glaring at the pair of them.

“Yuuri’s boyfriend, Phichit,” Viktor points to the program, “I told you I knew someone else in the showcase, remember?”

“I wasn’t listening to you run your mouth,” Yuri snaps, considering Yuuri again as if seeing a brand-new person. “Your boyfriend dances for Okukawa?”

“Yes?” It comes out as a question, Yuuri bewildered by the intense scrutiny he’s receiving from the two brothers. Having grown up with Minako, Yuuri often forgets how big of a name she is in the dancing world.

Viktor tilts his head, “Yuri wants to audition for her lessons one day. Any chance you could introduce him to her?”

“Shut up!” Yuri snarls, cheeks flushing pink.

With a shrug, Yuuri says, “Sure. Though Minako-sensei doesn’t care for rude students.”

The pink brightens, and Yuri’s gaze drops to his lap. Viktor smirks slightly, eyes flicking between Yuuri and his brother before he comments, “You called her sensei, that means teacher, right?” Yuuri nods. “Do you dance with her too?”

“Minako-sensei taught me to dance when I was younger. Sometimes I go to her studios to practice,” Yuuri explains.

Viktor’s eyes widen and he leans forward, “You were taught to dance by Okukawa? What are you doing programming?”

“Shhh, it’s about to start,” Yuuko cuts in, pulling gently on Yuuri’s arm to get him to turn around.

Gratefully, Yuuri sinks a little into his seat and focuses his attention forward.

A woman walks onto the stage, and despite never having seen a picture of her, Yuuri's heard enough about Lilia Baranovskaya to recognize her immediately as she strides in front of the red curtain until she's at the center.

"Thank you all for attending this year's charity showcase. Not only is it an opportunity to provide a preview of the magnitude of talent that this program boasts, but we get to do so while giving back to the community. Between ticket sales, our silent auction, and sponsorship bids in our program, we will be donating several thousand dollars to aid incoming refugees." She pauses as applause roars through the room. "Our performances this evening are among some of the highest caliber I have had the pleasure of presenting over my time as an instructor here. Please enjoy."

More applause ripples through the theater as she walks back into the wings.

The curtains open to reveal a small group of dancers in simple blue costumes. Yuuri immediately picks out Phichit in the mix and the last coherent thought he has is how at home Phichit looks on the stage before the dance takes his breath away.

[It's truly a group number in every sense of the word](https://youtu.be/A8EmgJ0Jbq0), so much so that Yuuri occasionally forgets that it's made up of individuals rather than a single body moving as one.

He's not the only one in awe because Yuuko leans across Takeshi as the dancers take their bows to murmur, "I didn't realize the dancing was this advanced?"

A snort sounds behind them and Yuri says, "This is a premiere dance program. People sell their souls to get in."

Yuuko glances over at him before looking back at Yuuri, "I can't believe you kept quiet about dating him for so long, I'm almost mad at you."

Thankfully, the start of the next number prevents Yuuri from having to answer.

Baranovskaya’s speech was clearly not full of empty words. Each dance is astounding in its own right, from the jazz numbers to hip-hop, all of the performers clearly giving their all with each number. Mila’s solo is [a stunning contemporary ballet piece on pointe](https://youtu.be/q4hhpIxQWiU?t=7s) that makes Yuuri’s legs itch to dance with her.

Programming is what he loves, and he would never trade his career in it for the world, but the showcase makes Yuuri consider making his practices at Minako’s studio a more disciplined part of his routine.

Before Mila and Phichit’s duet, Lilia steps back on stage to speak. “This next piece is a particular treat. It has been some years since I was able to convince Minako Okukawa to choreograph for a showcase of any kind. In fact, this is the first time in nearly five years that new Okukawa choreography has been debuted. In celebration, Madame Okukawa has also agreed to auction off a free three-month probationary lesson slot with her studio. The item has been added to the table and will be available for bid only during intermission.”

A buzz rolls through the room. Yuuri thinks he can hear Yuri talking in rapid Russian with his brother.

Lilia clears her throat and the noise dies. “Please enjoy _Hallelujah_ as choreographed by Minako Okukawa. Danced by Phichit Chulanont and Mila Babicheva.”

She walks off stage as Phichit and Mila walk on. The lights shift, shining from behind the pair and Yuuri leans forward slightly in anticipation. He only went to the initial practice, when Minako taught the pair the steps. When he was there, Phichit and Mila were too focused on trying to get the timing and the technicality of the piece memorized (both noticeably overwhelmed). Now, they look relaxed as they wait for the music to start.

Yuuri gets the feeling he’s about to witness something amazing, and he’s the only person the audience with any sort of preparation.

[The guitar begins to strum and Phichit and Mila dance.](https://youtu.be/G8u8xPLar-E?t=1m14s)

Emotion bleeds through each movement they make, wrenching Yuuri’s heart without him even understanding how. The auditorium is absolutely silent, everyone transfixed as the pair flow through the routine, making it look effortless even as anguish dramatically paints their features.

By the end of the dance, Yuuri is on his feet before he even registers that he’s moving, but everyone else has done the same. Phichit and Mila bow to the standing ovation, trying to hide pleased smiles at the success of their performance.

Only when they’ve run offstage, and the auditorium floods with light, does Yuuri remember he didn’t come to the showcase alone.

A hand is tapping on his shoulder, and Yuuri turns to meet Yuri’s gaze. A mulish look is on the boy’s face and he points at the empty stage. “ _That’s_ your boyfriend?”

“Uh…” Yuuri’s not really sure how many people he has to lie to about his relationship with Phichit.

“He got a good one, didn’t he?” Yuuko comments, grinning. “Though he could stand to brag about how talented Phichit is more.”

Yuuri can feel heat flushing to his face, but Yuri is looking at the stage thoughtfully. “Privately tutored by Okukawa?” Yuuri can literally see Yuri make a decision before he rounds on his brother, “I need to win that lesson slot!”

Viktor quirks an eyebrow, “With what money?”

“You make a shit-ton of money. You can win the auction.”

The brothers start arguing again, letting Yuuri slide back into his seat to stare blankly at his program, frowning to himself.

Phichit is extremely talented. Not just talented, but his charisma is evident even when he’s onstage and communicating without words. Phichit works harder than Yuuri knows most people could even dream of comprehending. And, somehow, there’s a greater than zero chance that Phichit won’t end up being a professional dancer.

The time commitment it takes is beyond insane. Working a job to support himself while getting the practice in that he needs to keep his technique razor sharp is going to eventually become impossible.

Dancing is costly. Yuuri can picture the practice shoes Phichit wears for rehearsals: the soles thin, the straps looking like they’re ready to snap. From dancing as a child, Yuuri knows how much it costs to get proper shoes, not to mention costumes, and afford the food necessary for a proper diet.

Phichit will have to get contracted almost immediately out of school in order to continue doing what he loves, and the thought of that not happening makes Yuuri’s brows draw down. Phichit deserves to dance.

Dimly, he remembers the conversation they had while sitting on the floor of Minako’s studio. Phichit admitting that the amount Yuuri pays him (which is frankly pocket change for Yuuri’s salary) was what gave Phichit enough free-time to do the showcase. And doing showcases is exactly what will get Phichit noticed: the more he can do the better.

The idea that Yuuri was even a small piece in what allowed Phichit to produce the two beautiful dances he just saw, much less the two to come after the intermission, sends a rush of warmth through Yuuri’s chest. He could help more if Phichit let him. Phichit’s presence has helped Yuuri come out of his shell and make actual friends and have a real social life. If Yuuri could somehow give it back to Phichit, as someone who has his dream job and knows what it takes to get it, that would be amazing.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they are safely in the wings, Phichit turns and envelopes Mila in a hug, twirling her around as she laughs.

“We killed that!” Phichit says, setting her lightly on her feet.

“You say it like you had doubts,” Mila replies.

“After that first rehearsal, I was pretty worried. Don’t act like you weren’t too.”

Mila laughs again, “The first rehearsal was hell, but we did kill it.”

“Babicheva! Chulanont!” The stage manager calls from further in the wings. “Stop wasting time, we’ve only got fifteen minutes to get everyone changed and you’re in the way!”

Resisting the urge to laugh at how stressed the stage manager sounds (as any stage manager always sounds), Phichit calls back, “Thank you, fifteen!”

“Just go!”

With half of the pieces out of the way, Phichit’s pre-show nerves mellow as he trots to one of the shared dressing rooms and changed costumes. The rest of the showcase passes in a blur, with every dancer in the second half of the showcase doing their best to keep up the momentum set by the first half.

Before he knows it, Phichit is stepping on stage for his solo. Briefly, he scans the faces in the crowd, wondering if he can catch sight of anyone he knows. The lighting works against him, making the crowd look like too much of a blur for a quick glance to do him any good.

Clearing his mind, Phichit switches his attention to finding the emotion of the dance. The piano notes wash over him, and so does the memory of Yuuri’s advice—to focus on the music rather than the precision on the steps. Taking a deep breath, Phichit steps into his first movement.

Since finally making progress at Minako’s studio, Phichit has danced the piece over two dozen times. The movements are muscle memory at this point, so Phichit places his trust in his training and lets each flick of his fingers demonstrate  _philautia_.

This showcase was, at points, hell. Dividing himself between rehearsals, school, and work often left Phichit so drained he wasn’t sure if he could move the next day.

But he’s doing what he loves to do, and that’s worth every back-breaking minute. Not only that, but Phichit is doing what he loves to do and he’s doing it well. He’s happy with where he currently is in his life and he lets that show in his dance, lets his acceptance for who he is shine through with each step until the music draws to a close.

Slowly pulling himself out of his head, Phichit steps to center stage and blinks at the sight of the standing ovation. It was one thing for his earlier duet—choreographed by a world-renowned ballerina—but the enthusiasm of the crowd’s response to this piece that Phichit choreographed largely on his own (with Madame Baranovskaya’s exacting input) is almost overwhelming.

Smiling, Phichit sweeps a bow and runs offstage.

The chaos in the wings is a far cry from the peace he felt onstage. A crew member shoves his final costume into his hands and ushers him to a corner. As more music starts and dancers move out for the closing number, Phichit rapidly changes costumes, just barely making it in time for his cue.

And when the curtains close on their final bows, Phichit starts to feel the slightest sensation of missing this showcase that only just finished.

Dancers call congratulations to each other as he goes down to the dressing rooms to put on street clothes. Aware that his roommates are waiting in the lobby, Phichit is one of the first dancers out of the backstage area and into the crowd of the audience.

“‘Chit!” Turning in the direction of the shout, Phichit grins and weaves his way over to his friends. Leo claps him on the shoulder. “That was amazing!”

Cocking an eyebrow, Phichit jokes, “Is that a tone of surprise?”

Leo doesn’t even look fazed as he scoffs, “Of course it isn’t. We knew you would be amazing but we didn’t know you’d be the showstopper.”

“I wasn’t the showstopper.”

Seung-gil shrugs. “You were, people were talking about you as they came out the theater.”

“They’re staring,” Guang-Hong mutters.

Glancing around, Phichit feels his cheeks warm when he notices more than a handful of people staring at them. “Oh.”

“We don’t want to hold you up from your adoring fans,” Leo says. “See you at the apartment?”

Phichit nods, “I’ll be back late; Mila’s throwing a cast party. Thanks for coming, guys.”

He waves them off, and immediately hears a soft, “Excuse me?” Glancing to the side, Phichit smiles at the elderly couple politely waiting to talk to him. The speaker is a woman a few inches shorter than he and she says, “Your dancing was exquisite, young man. We’ve been attending this showcase for some time and you have amazing potential. We look forward to seeing you dance again soon.”

Astonished, Phichit manages to stutter out his gratitude before his attention is pulled by a trio of young girls, bouncing excitedly to take a picture with him.

“Phichit!” The familiar voice is a breath of fresh air as Yuuko and Takeshi appear in the crowd of people.

Yuuko pulls him into a hug. “You’re a beautiful dancer.”

“Thank you,” Phichit says. “I didn’t know you were coming?”

“Yuuri forgot to mention your showcase was this weekend until just a couple of days ago. Don’t get her started on that disaster,” Takeshi explains, clasping Phichit’s forearm in a warm greeting. “Glad we made it though, the whole show was great.”

Phichit looks around at the crowd. “I haven’t seen Yuuri yet. I know he was planning to come…”

“Viktor’s little brother is a fan of your dance tutor,” Yuuko says before Phichit can get sidetracked imagining all the reasons why Yuuri wouldn’t have shown up. “He’s probably still in the auditorium introducing them. We have to get going, but we wanted to give you this.”

She hands over a card with his name on it and Phichit smiles, genuinely touched. “Thank you for coming.”

“We’ll see you at the next trivia night, right?”

“Of course.”

The couple waves and heads toward the door. Watching them go, Phichit turns the card over in his fingers. He’s never had a repeat client long enough to get close with their friends. To have Yuuri’s coworkers here to support him should be weird but for some reason, Phichit can’t bring himself to be concerned about it.

Silver hair catches his attention. Viktor stops next to Phichit to direct his beaming smile at him. “You were amazing, Phichit. I had no idea you’d be dancing with Mila.”

It’s an odd comment. Phichit tilts his head, frowning thoughtfully, “You know Mila?”

“Family friend,” Viktor explains, “when her family decided to move here we got back in touch so she would know some people in the area.” He glances over Phichit’s shoulder and his smile shrinks, somehow becoming more honest. “Ah, looks like you have a fan waiting to speak with you. See you around.”

Another stranger is the last thing Phichit wants to deal with but he turns around and is promptly frozen in place. Yuuri is waiting patiently, wearing a nice simple button down and some black slacks—a college showcase doesn’t really require formal attire from the audience, but the idea that Yuuri dressed up to see Phichit dance makes Phichit’s cheeks feel even warmer.

A soft smile is on Yuuri’s face, and he takes a step forward, holding out a bouquet of flowers. “I’m sure everyone has already told you a dozen times how amazing you were.”

“One more time wouldn’t bruise my ego,” Phichit tries to joke, even if his voice is too high-pitched to be believably casual.

Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice because his smile widens and he says, “Your dancing is breathtaking, Phichit. I’m glad I got to see it.”

Over the course of a handful of fake dates with Yuuri, Phichit has certainly had his opinion on a few of Yuuri’s personality quirks and how they should be illegal. Yuuri handing Phichit a beautiful bouquet in the middle of a crowd of strangers and showering Phichit in compliments about his dancing should absolutely 100% be against the law.

Phichit doesn’t even know what to say. He isn’t sure what will come out of his mouth if he opens it, but he can’t just not thank Yuuri.

Throwing caution to the wind, Phichit opens his mouth and is saved by Mila.

“Hey, lovebirds,” she calls, stepping around Yuuri and preventing Phichit from having to reply. At this moment, Phichit thinks he could build a shrine to Mila.

Her eyes land on his flowers and she gives a dramatic sigh of longing. “Young love, so beautiful.”

“We’re both older than you, Mila,” Phichit points out.

“But still young enough to have fun!” Mila replies, completely undeterred. “Like at the cast party tonight. Yuuri’s coming, right?”

Any plans for a Mila-centric shrine are immediately abandoned.

“Cast party?” Yuuri repeats.

“Really laid back,” she says as if she can somehow read Yuuri’s mind and determine what sort of parties Yuuri would avoid, “most of the dancers and the crew at my place. Some drinks to relax and celebrate the showcase’s success. Maybe Phichit will loosen up with you there.”

Now, Yuuri looks bewildered. “Why would Phichit need me there to loosen up?”

“He’s become a bit of a bore.” Phichit makes a noise of protest, which goes ignored. “He spends all his time with you and working, I suppose. Both of you are coming, I won’t take no for an answer!”

Phichit shakes his head. “You can’t force Yuuri to come, Mila.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have your…what are you two? Are you an official item? The flowers give me that vibe. Regardless, you’d rather have Yuuri there, you can’t even deny it.”

Helpless, Phichit looks to Yuuri, wondering if the other man might have a clever lie to get out of the party. To his shock, Yuuri shrugs. “Sounds fun.”

With a victorious grin, Mila says, “Phichit has the address. See you soon!”

She vanishes into the crowd before Phichit can come up with anything to say. Which is probably just as well: when Mila has her mind set on something it’s almost impossible to get her to let it go.

Looking back at Yuuri, Phichit says, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I’ve been keeping you busy coming to things with my friends, it’s the least I can do,” Yuuri replies, sounding much calmer about the whole situation than Phichit would have ever guessed. “Unless you don’t want me there, I’d understand.”

Shaking his head rapidly to dispel the notion, Phichit says, “I enjoy spending time with you, but you already pay me to hang out with your friends, you really don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Yuuri cuts him off with another smile, and Phichit is really, really, weak to the way Yuuri’s eyes crinkle when he smiles like this.

“Alright, let’s go to Mila’s party.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody say 'cast party'?

Phichit is 100% absolutely not panicking.

Sure, he’s seated in the passenger seat of Yuuri’s car (Yuuri’s ridiculously _nice_ car. Why had he never asked for a ride before?), giving Yuuri turn-by-turn directions on how to get to Mila’s house party that will be full of less-than-top-quality booze and drunk college students. Sure, the thought of almost all of Phichit’s dance friends going on mortifying tangents about Phichit in front of Yuuri who is obviously older and more refined than them makes Phichit want to sink into the seat and vanish from existence. Sure, the concept of playing boyfriends with Yuuri for an entirely new crowd makes Phichit feel a little (or a lot) jittery inside.

But he’s not panicking. Nope, not even a tiny bit.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asks, and Phichit drags his eyes away from the fascinating bit of thread he’s been picking at on his jeans for the last ten minutes to look curiously at Yuuri.

“I’m fine?” It isn’t meant to come out as a question, but it does, and Phichit briefly wonders if he’s questioning Yuuri’s question or if he’s questioning his own answer.

The older ( _older, holy shit, Yuuri is never going to want to see Phichit again after this_ ) man glances at Phichit briefly before his eyes return to the road. “You’ve been really quiet. Are you sure you want to go?”

Yuuri asks with such sincerity that Phichit pauses in his not-panicking. If he said no, he has no doubt that Yuuri will immediately turn the car around and take Phichit back to his apartment so he can crash with his roommates. It’s a tempting option.

But, going back to his apartment with his roommates means saying bye to Yuuri for the night and as much as Phichit is maybe, slightly, just sort of dreading the hundred worst-case scenarios that already flickered through his head during the short drive, Phichit can’t deny that he doesn’t want to say goodnight.

“I want to go, I just…” Phichit trails off, considering his words before admitting, “it’s going to be a bunch of college dance students getting ridiculously drunk, it’ll be a mess.”

Yuuri laughs. “It’s been less than three years since I graduated college, I know exactly what I’m in for.”

That’s… a lot of information for Phichit to process.

Spending so much time around Yuuri’s successful coworkers (all of whom are veritable geniuses in their own rights) and hearing all of Phichit’s friends refer to Yuuri as an ‘older man’ sometimes makes Phichit mentally inflate the age difference between them but Yuuri… Yuuri is only two years older than him.

And that has the potential to spiral into a different kind of (not) panic regarding where Phichit’s life is going and where he’ll be in two years’ time that he does _not_ have the energy to deal with so he shoves that line of thought aside to latch onto something else equally as baffling.

“You partied in college?”

“Not often,” Yuuri says, glancing at him again with a bashful smile, “I was mostly too busy with schoolwork and being too shy to make a lot of friends to party. Big crowds of strangers were also never my thing.”

“But you went to parties,” Phichit presses, trying to wrap his mind around shy college-student Yuuri at a party.

It’s difficult to tell while passing underneath the streetlights of the city, but Phichit’s sure he can see the beginning of a blush on the tips of Yuuri’s ears as the other man admits, “I’m a, uh, entertaining drunk, I guess.”

There’s so much weight behind the vague sentence and Phichit immediately regrets agreeing to let Yuuri drive because it means Yuuri is going to be responsible and not get drunk and Phichit will never know the real meaning behind whatever Yuuri is trying to avoid saying. Mentally cycling through what he knows of Yuuri’s colleagues, Phichit is equally as disappointed to realize none of them knew Yuuri before the beginning of the year, which means none of them will have more forthcoming answers about drunk Yuuri.

A true tragedy.

“Is this it?” Yuuri’s question brings Phichit back to the subject of his earlier episode of panic-less contemplation.

Looking out the windows, Phichit catches sight of the house Mila (and technically her parents when they’re in town) lives in and he nods. “If you get bored or tired don’t worry about taking off, I’ll be fine.”

Yuuri pulls up to the curb. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“For the drunk people, without a doubt. For the designated drivers…?” Phichit lets the sentence hang out meaningfully as he unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car.

Walking around the vehicle to keep step with Phichit, Yuuri shoots him an impish grin that _almost_ has Phichit tripping over thin air. “Designated drivers tend to have the best stories to tell because they actually remember what all the drunk people did.”

Phichit fumbles for a comeback all the way to the front door. Pausing before knocking, he raises his hands in defeat and quirks an eyebrow at Yuuri, “Touché. But I expect you to let any embarrassing moments of me die the moment you leave the party.”

Yuuri’s grin widens. “I’m not sure I can promise that.”

“So cruel, Yuuri,” Phichit sighs.

He turns to ring the doorbell and only has to wait a minute before it swings open to reveal Mila grinning from ear-to-ear nursing a red cup almost full to the brim. “You actually showed, ‘Chit!”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” he replies wryly.

Laughing, Mila tugs on his wrist, pulling him into the house. On instinct, Phichit reaches for Yuuri to pull the older man in behind him before the door gets slammed shut. Mila doesn’t acknowledge the fact that she almost made Phichit eat shit all over the fancy hardwood flooring of the entryway. Instead, she pulls the pair deeper into the house, toward where music is playing just loud enough for Phichit to feel the bass in sync with his heartbeat but not loud enough to raise noise complaints. Half of the showcase cast (and their plus ones) are already here, drinks in hands as they swap stories over beer pong or the pool table.

They’re tugged straight into the kitchen and Mila only lets go of Phichit when they’re standing in front of the fridge. She flings it open with a dramatic flourish. “Oh, fantastic duet partner of mine, pick your poison.”

Looking in the fridge, Phichit lets out a low whistle. “When you said the good stuff, you weren’t playing around.”

She winks. “Only the best for my first showcase castmates. I’ve heard rumors that you’re a tequila man so I got this one just for you.” She points at an entire handle of top-shelf tequila.

“I can’t drink that myself,” Phichit protests even as he pulls out the handle and picks a mixer.

With another laugh, Mila explains, “Whatever doesn’t get drained tonight is yours to keep. And for the pretty programmer?”

Yuuri shrugs. “I’m driving.”

“Ahh, stopping at one drink, what a shame,” Mila muses, considering the fridge before pulling out a bottle of beer with a label Phichit doesn’t even recognize. “Smooth and easy to sip. What do you think?”

Yuuri accepts the bottle with a smile. “I think you have good taste, Mila.”

“Watch out, Phichit, I’m going to steal your man,” she says in a dramatic stage whisper, yanking Phichit’s choices out of his hands and turning to the counter to fix his drink.

“Pretty sure you’re not his type,” Phichit grumbles, glaring at the back of Mila’s head as if she’ll ever notice.

“Oh?” She turns, passing another red cup to Phichit and handing a bottle opener to Yuuri. “What’s his type?”

Yuuri shrugs, opening his bottle with ease and passing the opener back to Mila with a wink of his own. “Adorable Thai danseurs. Do you happen to know any?”

At this point, Phichit has two viable options: swoon and faint or take a sip of his drink and pretend warmth didn’t bloom over his entire body at Yuuri’s words.

He opts for taking a large gulp of his drink, ears burning.

Mila looks like someone just told her finals were going to be canceled for the rest of her life as her gaze flicks between the two men. “I don’t know where Phichit found you but I need to spend more time there.” She frowns thoughtfully. “Actually, he never did tell me where you two met.”

Phichit’s hand shoots out to grab Yuuri’s wrist and he tugs Yuuri out of the kitchen. “Thanks for making my drink, Mila! I’m going to go socialize so you stop riding my ass about it.”

He moves much too quickly to even catch a word of Mila’s response. Yuuri follows with his pull as if he’d been expecting it, keeping pace as Phichit finds his way back into the living room where the rest of those already present are. Turning to Yuuri the moment they’re safely out of Mila’s reach, he’s surprised to find Yuuri look at him oddly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yuuri says, stepping closer into Phichit’s personal space. Any kind of coherent response Phichit might have made is robbed from him as Yuuri reaches out and presses the back of his hand on Phichit’s forehead.

“Uh…”

“You don’t have a fever,” Yuuri mumbles, more to himself than for Phichit. When he catches sight of Phichit’s face—which Phichit assumes is some kind of weird expression of complete and utter bewilderment mixed with a hint of world-stopping shock—a flush rapidly spreads across his cheeks and he lowers his hand. Dropping Phichit’s gaze, Yuuri sheepishly runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m just used to you not being flustered, ever, so I was worried something might be wrong.”

“Oh,” Phichit says, breathless, before blinking and understanding Yuuri’s concern.

 _Of course_ , this is weird for Yuuri. Yuuri is he surrounded by a bunch of Phichit’s classmates pretending to play boyfriend for no other reason than to be nice (at least, Phichit assumes there’s no other reason). And every other time they’re together, it’s Phichit playing cool and unflappable to cover any shyness Yuuri might feel. It’s usually Phichit who is working to charm Yuuri’s coworkers, not Yuuri charming Phichit’s friends. As weird as it feels to Phichit, it has to be at least twice as uncomfortable for Yuuri.

That’s what makes the whole situation easier for Phichit to handle. Pulling himself out of his own head and paying closer attention to Yuuri, making sure Yuuri doesn’t get too flustered with the situation, even though Yuuri’s been handling himself five times better than Phichit (sometimes a man just needs a distraction).

Smiling at Yuuri, Phichit shakes his head. “I’m fine. It just takes some getting used to, I’ve never introduced a client to any of my friends. My roommates are really the only ones who know what I do.” Loosening his grip on Yuuri’s wrist, Phichit slides his hand down to tangle his fingers with Yuuri. They’ve held hands before, but this is the first time Phichit’s doing it purely because it feels like the right thing to do, not because they’re playing to an audience. With a dramatic wink, he adds, “Thanks for being a good fake boyfriend to me, Yuuri, you’re the best.”

Yuuri snorts, flush deepening as he gently squeezes Phichit’s hand. “Feel free to kick me out if it gets too awkward.”

“Kick you out?” Phichit repeats, scandalized, drama oozing from each syllable, “Why, Yuuri, I would _never_.”

“Alright lovebirds,” Mila says, strolling past them to answer the door, “try and actually socialize with the rest of the party.”

Rolling his eyes at Mila, Phichit leads Yuuri further into the living room toward the pool table. His earlier feeling of panic (okay, yes, it was panic) is completely gone.

 

* * *

 

The party is surprisingly fun.

Not that Yuuri was expecting anything Mila organized to be boring, he just wasn’t expecting to be able to genuinely enjoy himself without worrying about all of Phichit’s friends scrutinizing his legitimacy as Phichit’s boyfriend. It turns out that all of them seem to already know about him (something definitely attributed to Mila rather than Phichit) and they accept his presence without batting an eyelash.

The only questions Yuuri has to worry about fielding are about Minako and his background in dance. And that’s easy for Yuuri to talk about, especially among the close-knit cast all seemingly possessing animated personalities with or without a drop of liquor in their systems.

When Phichit off-handedly mentions that Yuuri helped Minako with the choreography for his duet, no amount of Yuuri _insisting_ that Minako basically already had it finished by the time he walked through it with her is enough to prevent the enthusiastic from swarming Yuuri with hundreds of questions about Minako, dancing with the former prima ballerina, and choreographing in general.

Nursing her fourth or fifth drink of the night, Mila leans precariously over the back of the couch Yuuri’s seated in (surrounded by a group of raptly listening dancers) as she says, “Minako-sensei said that Yuuri’s one of the most lyrically gifted dancers she’s ever seen.”

“Holy shit.” A freshman who looks barely old enough to be in college stares up at Yuuri with wide eyes, hugging his own beer close to his chest as if afraid he might lose it. “That’s so cool.”

“Almost as cool as Yuuri being a fucking computer genius,” Phichit announces his return from going to get another drink, stepping around the couch to plop right in-between Yuuri and the girl seated next to him.

There’s not enough room for Phichit at all and he ends up half in Yuuri’s lap as he leans forward to inform the group seated on the floor. “Yuuri is part of the programming team for the first full virtual reality multi-player game and it’s going to be kick ass.”

Blushing, Yuuri shrugs. “It’s not a huge deal.”

Phichit whirls on him and points an accusing finger in his direction, almost directly on Yuuri’s nose. “You, shut up. That’s what you told me when we met and then I met your coworkers and they informed me that it is actually a gigantic deal and—holy shit.”

He cuts off abruptly, and Yuuri pulls Phichit’s finger away from his face to peer at the younger man with concern. “Phichit?”

“ _Yuuri,_ ” Phichit whispers, as if having a sudden realization, “I think…I’m drunk.”

Yuuri blinks at Phichit and bursts into laughter. He himself had told Phichit that when Phichit was halfway through his third drink only to be silenced with a hand across his mouth and a stern expression as Phichit seriously informed him that no, he wasn’t drunk. As the definitely non-intoxicated of the two, Yuuri merely nodded in agreement and pressed a cup of water into Phichit’s hand before letting Phichit drag him into a game of beer pong (where Phichit drank for them both).

Behind them, Mila laughs just as hard, doubled over the back of the couch as she says, “You’ve been such a workaholic all semester that you forgot how to party, ‘Chit.”

Glaring at Mila, Phichit passes his cup to the freshman still looking at Yuuri with something eerily akin to awe and grabs Yuuri’s hand. “I’ll show you how to party, Mila.”

With that warning, Phichit pulls Yuuri out of his seat and drags him to the makeshift dance floor, only slightly unsteady on his feet as he whirls on his heel to face Yuuri. Yuuri’s slightly taken aback by how serious Phichit looks before Phichit announces, “I want to show off, do you know how to salsa?”

“Salsa?” Yuuri repeats.

Phichit nods enthusiastically. “Salsa, the Latin dance. Originated in the Caribbean? Usually, your upper body stays still while your-”

“Phichit,” Yuuri cuts him off, trying not to laugh again, “I know what salsa is.”

“But do you know _how_ to salsa?” Phichit repeats, sounding exasperated.

“Yes, I know how to salsa, but I don’t know what that has to do with-”

“Great!” Phichit shouts, speaking over Yuuri as he adjusts his grip on Yuuri’s hand so he’s supporting the weight of Yuuri’s wrist, reaching for Yuuri’s other hand in the same movement.

Yuuri barely has time to register the open position for most social dancing before Phichit is stepping backward in time with the beat of the music. For all that Phichit is definitely drunk, he makes a great lead as he twirls Yuuri around the small open space in the middle of the living room, laughing when he pulls Yuuri in for a spin or when they accidentally step out of sync. Yuuri’s confusion evaporates instantly, replaced by a smile as he lets Phichit guide him through the dance.

When they finish a spin in the wrong position, Phichit’s hands supported by Yuuri’s, Yuuri shoots Phichit a grin before taking the lead. Being sober, he’s able to lead Phichit through much more complicated positions, laughing the whole time. Belatedly, Yuuri recognizes the incredibly light feeling in his chest isn’t just because he’s having fun—and he is having much more fun than he ever anticipated when he told Mila he would attend—but it’s because he’s having fun with _Phichit._

Something about being around Phichit always does this, makes Yuuri feel like he could leap off the ground and defy gravity at will. Something about Phichit’s grin and laughter is unbelievably infectious, even when Yuuri’s stomach is tied in a knot while he tries to battle back his anxiety. Something about holding Phichit’s hand is so much easier than walking next to Phichit without making any physical contact.

As Phichit spins dramatically into the curve of his arm, Yuuri jolts at the realization that Phichit dancing here—in poor artificial lighting, three drinks into a house party—is just as breathtaking as when he had dancing been onstage in professional lighting stepping through a beautifully choreographed routine.

Instead of spinning back out, Phichit drops his head against Yuuri’s shoulder and mumbles against Yuuri’s shirt as he continues to step in time with Yuuri.

Craning his neck to try and catch Phichit’s words over the music and increasingly loud chatter of increasingly intoxicated dancers, Yuuri says, “I can’t hear you, Phichit.”

Phichit mumbles again, not moving his head an inch, and Yuuri bites back a snort of laughter. “I still can’t hear you.”

With a sigh, Phichit lifts his head just high enough to make eye contact from underneath his lashes and says, “I’m exhausted.”

“Exhausted like you need to sit down or exhausted like you need to go home?”

Phichit frowns thoughtfully, looking over Yuuri’s shoulder as he thinks through the question. Yuuri waits patiently for Phichit’s alcohol-addled brain to work through the problem and eventually Phichit sighs again, “Go home kind of tired.”

“I’ll drive you,” Yuuri offers, pulling on their still joined hands to lead Phichit away from the middle of the dancing.

“I can call an uber,” Phichit protests, patting his jean pockets. He comes to a standstill, eyes wide. “I can’t find my phone.”

Digging into his own pocket, Yuuri hands Phichit’s phone over, not successfully able to hide a grin as he explains, “You asked me to hold onto it before you went to do shots with someone and never asked for it back.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Phichit says, letting Yuuri pull him through the party again.

Waving goodbye to Mila, Yuuri shrugs. “I think the designated driver is also partially responsible for keeping track of phones too. At least, it happens a lot.”

Phichit breaks into laughter at that, and when Yuuri looks curiously over his shoulder, Phichit just shakes his head, looking entirely too amused about what Yuuri just said.

He manages to lead Phichit outside and to his car before Phichit remembers why he wanted his phone. “Wait, Yuuri, I can call an Uber. I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother, Phichit,” Yuuri says, making his voice as soothing as possible as he opens the passenger seat door for Phichit, who climbs inside and clicks his seatbelt despite his protests. “I’ll feel better if I get you home safely myself.”

Walking around to the driver’s side, Yuuri pulls out his own phone and opens the navigation app, passing it to Phichit as soon as he’s seated. “Put your address in, in case you doze off on the way there.”

Phichit stares at the phone for a long moment, making Yuuri frown. He’s quite positive that Phichit did not have enough to drink for the phone screen to be blurry to him.

When Phichit looks up, a smile that looks almost fond is spreading across Phichit’s face and he says, “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had and we’re not even dating.”

Yuuri freezes. Best boyfriend Phichit’s ever had?

Rapidly running through everything they’ve done together since meeting Yuuri replies, “Your past boyfriends must have been really shitty.”

It’s much blunter than Yuuri meant to be but Phichit just laughs and nods. “Yeah, yeah they were.”

He types his address into Yuuri’s phone as Yuuri grapples with the idea that someone, anyone, could have been dating Phichit Chulanont and were somehow dumb enough to be a shitty boyfriend. Yuuri’s mental tirade is interrupted by Phichit passing his phone back. Saving the (slightly infuriating) line of thought for later, Yuuri starts the navigation and pulls away from the curb.

From the corner of his eye, Yuuri watches as Phichit slumps in his seat, clearly struggling to stay awake now that the adrenaline from the party is fading in the distance. As Yuuri pulls onto the highway he hears Phichit sigh, “I’m glad you decided to pick me.”

“Me too,” Yuuri admits.

“It was definitely the hamsters.”

Laughing softly, Yuuri lets his half-asleep friend have that one without correcting him. “Just get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

Turning in the seat, Phichit mumbles, “Best boyfriend ever.”

He’s asleep in the next breath, leaving Yuuri to handle the rapid uptick in his pulse alone in the quiet of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, softly but with feeling: holy shit, they like each other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work-life balance has never been Yuuri's strongest skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who picked this up over the last month and left comments! Even though irl stuff is slowing my writing speed down, I'm continually working on this fic so it's encouraging to see people still reading it!

“Someone had a good weekend.”

The teasing comment seems to come from out of the blue, the speaker’s voice just over his shoulder. Pulling out his headphones, Yuuri shifts in his chair and directs a curious look at Chris. “Sorry, what?”

A sly smile plays around the designer’s lips. “An excellent weekend, even.”

Yuuri resists the urge to roll his eyes at the utterly unhelpful comment. Of course, he should have known better than to expect Chris to give him proper clarification. Glancing past Chris, he meets blue eyes and asks Viktor, “What is he talking about?”

“You were humming,” Viktor replies. A single finger taps his lips in an expression that Yuuri associates with long hours trying to solve unexpected problems with development. There’s an intensity to Viktor that’s always thrown Yuuri slightly off-balance, and the way Viktor’s gaze roves Yuuri’s face, as if studying a puzzle in his features, is no exception. “Usually you’re so quiet over here that it’s eerie.”

With a shrug, Yuuri murmurs, “I guess I did have a good weekend.”

Chris’ smile widens and he cocks an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that adorable boyfriend of yours, would it?”

Heat rises to Yuuri’s cheeks, and he’s positive he manages to turn beet red in record time (if Chris’ laughter is any indication). “It was just a good weekend.” Instead of giving either man an opportunity to fluster him further, Yuuri scrambles to change the subject. “What’s going on?”

Visits from members of the design team aren’t rare, but Yuuri could count on one hand how often he sees Viktor or Chris in the programmer’s space. Most of their interactions occur in meetings, and Yuuri is positive he didn’t forget an appointment on his schedule.

“Have you ever been to MX, Yuuri?” Viktor asks, referring to the massive conference the company hosts every year.

“Not recently?” Yuuri can’t help the question from seeping into his response, not quite sure why such a fact would have any meaning to the other man.

“But you’re a big gamer,” Viktor says, “competitive, yes?”

Eyes flicking between the two men, unable to push back the creeping feeling that he’s being led somewhere he doesn’t want to go, Yuuri slowly nods.

Viktor grins, attention shifting to Chris. “Told you he would be perfect!”

Chris shrugs. “You say that like I doubted you.”

“I’m sorry, perfect for what?”

“A couple of the panels,” Viktor replies, “evidently the beta testers have been raving about how smooth the game is running so PR wants to add a member of the programming team to the game premiere panel, and they’re interested in having an entire session on the programming team. Since you’re an up and comer, one of our best programmers, and can connect to the audience from a gamer’s perspective, you are the obvious choice.”

The color drains from Yuuri’s face. “You want me to speak on an MX panel? I can’t do that.”

Chris plucks the tablet Viktor was carrying from the other man’s hands, tapping a couple of times before flipping the screen around. “This is you, isn’t it? Two years ago, at the GDC?”

A grainy video of a small stage at the Game Developer’s Conference stares up at Yuuri. The camera is relatively close to the presenter, who is gesturing to the presentation on the screen behind him. Still in school and terrified over the prospect of presenting in front of industry professionals, Yuuri had purposefully left his glasses off-stage so he couldn’t see the crowd; he hadn’t even realized someone was recording him.

“Yes, but that was-”

“No ‘buts’, Yuuri! We have to have you for the panel,” Viktor announces, taking back his tablet to make notes. “I’ll send you the email from the PR team that outlines what they’re looking for. You’ll need to submit your proposal for the presentation by the end of the week, sorry about the short turnaround.”

“As you probably know, the con is taking place in Anaheim at the beginning of November. The company will pay all of your travel expenses, and you can bring one guest since you’re presenting,” Chris finishes Viktor’s explanation, head tilted to look at Yuuri from underneath ridiculously long lashes. “Maybe bring that boyfriend of yours? He could liven up the place.”

“But-”

“Viktor! Chris!”

Someone calls for the designers from across the room, and Viktor waves to indicate they’ll be right over. “You’ll do great, Yuuri. Can’t wait to see what you come up with!”

They’re gone before Yuuri can get another word in edgewise.

Groaning, he drops his head, covering his face with his hands. His stomach churns unpleasantly, the beginning prickling feeling of his anxiety reacting to the unexpected news. Just the thought of being the mouthpiece for the programming team is nauseating, and Yuuri hasn’t even had the chance to imagine all the things that might go wrong.

“Yuuri, can you take a look at this? I’m getting an error message but I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

The question tugs Yuuri out of his wallowing and he glances up to flash a weak smile at the programmer seated across from him. “Sure, give me one second.”

If the weekend Yuuri just had—watching a beautiful showcase and then a night of getting to enjoy drunk Phichit’s actions—could be classified as a dream, Viktor and Chris’ announcement is the beginning of a rapidly worsening nightmare.

It becomes the week from hell.

Yuuri can’t quite tell if that’s just how his week was destined to be or if it feels worse than it should after the pleasantness of his weekend.

On top of his regular duties, already stressful with the ever-looming deadline of the game launch, Yuuri rushes to pull together a presentation proposal for a panel he doesn’t even want to participate in.

“At least it means the higher ups have confidence in you,” Yuuko tries to comfort him halfway through the week over lunch. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t give you your own team for the next game. Some of the older programmers are jealous.”

Yuuri winces. “I’d rather not make enemies.”

With a shrug, Yuuko waves her fork in a lazy motion. “It’s their fault for not adapting with the times. You’re a star, Yuuri, you’ll do great. The crowd is full of our kind of people anyways, it’s not like they want you to fail.”

There’s a lot of logic to Yuuko’s statement, and Yuuri nods in agreement, turning his attention back to his lunch. It’s unfortunate that anxiety doesn’t obey the laws of logic, that no matter how much sense Yuuko makes it does little to undo the tightening knot in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach. Pretending he’s feeling better is much simpler than dragging Yuuko into that topic of conversation, especially when it feels like admitting a weakness, especially during work hours with a colleague.

It’s nothing short of a miracle when Yuuri manages to compile a halfway-decent proposal to send to the public relations team handling the conference presenters. And he somehow manages not to collapse with relief when he receives an email back merely an hour later approving the panel topic and requesting a meeting to discuss the details.

By Friday, Yuuri feels like he’s lived a month in five days, feels like the fantastic weekend that (evidently) had him humming at his desk is nothing more than a distant memory. Yuuri can hardly wrap his head around anything outside of his work and it is bone-numbing.

When one of the programmers mentions the team having a game night, Yuuri passes without a second thought, unable to consider doing anything with his weekend besides sleeping.

 

* * *

 

The chattering has been going on to the point of being incessant and Phichit’s patience is past fried. He keeps a pleasant smile on his face, nodding to imply he’s paying attention to whatever topic his client is raving about now. Around them, the rest of the hiking group is taking pictures and talking about the scenery (which his client seems to be oblivious to).

Phichit squints down the trail and gently cuts in. “Where are we heading?”

A girl on Phichit’s other side steps next to him with a smile, pointing up and to their right. “You can see the tip of the outcrop there. It’s another twenty minutes or so to the top.”

Twenty more minutes to the top. Phichit internally groans but he keeps a grin on his face as he thanks the girl and politely asks her name, ignoring the way his client seems irritated at no longer being the center of his attention.

Bad jobs are not new territory for Phichit. In fact, he’d say about thirty percent of the jobs he takes are bad experiences. Most of the time it boils down to the client, either being awkward or overbearing or just simply obnoxious. Other times it’s because he’s accompanying the client to an uncomfortable situation—once he sat through a fire and brimstone bible study with a closeted gay client, another time a family reunion for a client who had just failed all of his college classes.

Objectively, Phichit knows this isn’t the worst job he’s ever taken. Sure, his client is annoying, but the hike is a nice change of pace for exercise besides the white walls of a dance studio and the scenery around them is beautiful. Objectively, the job is actually not bad at all considering he’s getting quite the decent paycheck and will be back in town early enough to take another job immediately afterward. Objectively, he knows he’s having a bad time because he wants to be somewhere else, with someone else.

Phichit is self-aware enough to know his foul mood is because he hasn’t heard a peep from Yuuri since the showcase afterparty. And it’s not unusual for a client to suddenly no longer want or need his services and vanish without a trace, but the thought of Yuuri doing so has Phichit on edge.

He also finds it hard to believe Yuuri would just vanish unless Phichit had done something wrong, and for the two weeks since the showcase, Phichit has scoured his brain, trying to connect the dots. He had been drunk, that much Phichit knows; he hadn’t been blackout drunk, but he was pretty fucking drunk and it’s possible he said something or did something he doesn’t quite remember.

What he does remember is having fun dancing with Yuuri, he remembers falling asleep in Yuuri’s car, he remembers Yuuri’s arm firmly around his waist as the other man helped him up the steps to his apartment. He remembers Leo’s raised eyebrows when he answered the door to find both of them standing there.

He vaguely remembers a conversation in Yuuri’s car, but he doesn’t remember exactly what he said, and that’s what terrifies Phichit. If he said something that made Yuuri hate him, he doesn’t even remember it, doesn’t remember enough to apologize.

Phichit is swamped with the overwhelming urge to pull his phone from his backpack and call Yuuri right here, client and hiking group be damned. The only thing that stops him is the fact that they’re beyond cellphone reception. Stifling a sigh, Phichit nods encouragingly at his current client as the guy rambles on and on about something Phichit frankly doesn’t give a damn about.

The entire job is three hours of hell that Phichit honestly isn’t sure how he manages to survive without blowing a fuse.

By the time he gets back to his apartment all he wants to do is shower and crawl into bed and not move again for a week. He can’t, of course, because he has another appointment in the evening, but Phichit compromises with a shower and slumping on top of his sheets with a groan.

His phone rings and Phichit reaches for it without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Phichit?” A woman’s voice sounds through the line, familiar but so out of place that he can’t quite put a name to it.

“Yeah?”

“This is Yuuko! From Yuuri’s office.”

Phichit sits bolt upright in bed, eyes wide. “Yuuko? How did you get my number?”

“Stole it off of Yuuri’s phone at the office yesterday. He’s not with you, is he?”

“No.”

There’s a thoughtful hum on the other end of the phone. “Any chance I can buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a great shop close to our usual trivia bar.”

Glancing at the clock, Phichit does rapid calculations before deciding he has time for the detour before his next appointment. “Sure. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Great! See you soon.”

Tossing his phone on the bed, Phichit rummages through his closet, rapidly pulling on some clean clothes. His still wet hair gets a messy finger combing and he shoves his wallet in his pocket. Phichit can’t shake the sense of urgency out of his body: even if he and Yuuri were actually dating, getting such a phone call from his boyfriend’s coworker is more than a little concerning. Especially if Yuuko is going around Yuuri to get in touch with Phichit.

He’s out the door in record time, walking to the same coffee shop where he first met Yuuri.

Yuuko is already there, standing outside the door. She waves at him, her friendly smile beaming across the distance as Phichit crosses the street to meet her.

“It feels like it’s been ages since we saw each other,” Yuuko says.

Phichit nods, giving her a quick hug. “It does. What’s up?”

“Let me buy you a drink first? What do you want?”

They go through the short line with small talk. Phichit asks Yuuko how her work on the game is coming, Yuuko asks Phichit about classes. When they both have drinks in hand they find a table in a quiet corner.

Thanks to his job, Phichit is pretty good at reading body language, and the way Yuuko’s lips press into a thin line, the way that she leans back in her chair and looks over his shoulder the moment they get to their seats, strengthens his concern about whatever she called him to talk about.

Yuuko lets out a sigh. “I suppose I’ll get straight to the point, I’m worried about Yuuri.”

“Worried?”

She nods. “Ever since he got the con assignment he’s been working himself ragged, doing overtime and probably working on stuff during the weekends. He hasn’t even tried to make it out on the weekends with any of us and he plays it off well but I think he’s ready to explode. Obviously getting the panel on top of having the game ready for launch is beyond stressful for anyone, but Yuuri is such a perfectionist that he won’t let anything slip and it’s probably going to wear him down before we even get to launch day.”

Phichit’s eyes widen as Yuuko talks. He doesn’t quite follow all of the terms and is no doubt missing a few crucial aspects of information, but the picture painted is clear enough for Phichit to understand.

Yuuri’s a workaholic: it didn’t take long for Phichit to figure that one out. It would make sense that stress at work would make Yuuri so preoccupied that he became a hermit. _If_ that’s the case, that also would mean that Yuuri isn’t angry at Phichit over whatever happened at the showcase afterparty, and Phichit can’t help the wave of relief that swamps him.

“I’ve tried talking to him about it but he keeps brushing over the subject like nothing is wrong,” Yuuko continues, sounding exasperated. “I figured if anyone could get through to him it would be you.”

Phichit nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking everything through. This is way beyond anything he’s ever had to deal with for a client and based on that relationship it would be extremely invasive of him to do anything about the matter. But as a friend—and he and Yuuri are definitely friends by this point—it’s fair game for him to be worried about Yuuri working himself to the bone. And if Yuuko went as far as to get a hold of Phichit’s phone number just to ask for his help, it’s probably worth looking into.

But just texting Yuuri isn’t going to do him much good considering how evasive the other man has (evidently) already been on the matter, and Yuuri doesn’t strike him as the type to divulge a lot of information during a phone call without a solid reason to.

Mentally apologizing to Yuuri, Phichit gives Yuuko a sheepish smile. “It does sound like a bit of a mess, I had no idea any of that was happening. Yuuri and I haven’t talked since my showcase.”

Yuuko frowns. “That was two weeks ago? You haven’t talked at all?”

“We’re…not actually dating,” Phichit admits.

“Bullshit.”

Holding up his hands in a placating gesture, Phichit says, “It’s true. We only met a couple of months ago, right before I went to trivia night the first time. It’s…a long story, and it’s really Yuuri’s to tell, but we just meet up to go to things with the team and pretend to be dating. I do things similar to this for my side job.”

Yuuko’s eyes are wide as she stares at him, and Phichit fidgets slightly under the scrutiny. Several long minutes tick by before she shakes her head slowly. “I never would have guessed.”

Phichit lets out a sigh of relief over the fact that Yuuko is either extremely understanding or too worried about Yuuri to dig into the question further. “Glad to hear, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone either.”

“Fine, I’ll keep quiet. But…does this mean you’re not going to try and get through to Yuuri?”

“No, I want to help, if I can,” Phichit replies, “I just figured I’d have to explain why I don’t have any idea where he lives and would appreciate instructions to his place so I can talk to him.”

Yuuko lets out a slight laugh. “Yeah, I definitely would have asked you about that.” She pulls out her phone. “One second, let me pull up his address.”

As he waits, Phichit pulls out his own phone, glancing at the time. Stopping to visit Yuuri now would make his visit rushed, so he’ll have to do it after his next appointment. Hopefully, it doesn’t last too long and he can go to Yuuri’s place today and try to talk the older man out of working himself into an early grave.

Yuuko slides her phone across the table between them with Yuuri’s contact information pulled up on it and Phichit copies the address. As he types, he can feel Yuuko staring curiously at him, and he tries not to squirm in his seat under her gaze.

“So…is there a particular reason why you and Yuuri aren’t actually dating yet?”

Phichit nearly drops his phone. “What?”

She shrugs, face impressively blank except for the tiniest ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Well, I never would have guessed you two were faking because you act like such a close couple. It’s kind of hard to buy that it is all for show: there is no way you’re both that great of actors. You both watch each other when you think the other isn’t looking, you’re extremely attentive of each other-”

“Yuuko, do me a favor?” Phichit asks, cutting her off before she can say anything else.

“A favor?”

“Drop the subject, please.”

The older woman gives him a curious look before lifting her shoulders in another shrug. “Fine. But you will try to talk to Yuuri, right?”

He nods, and Yuuko gives him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Phichit.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri’s head is throbbing.

Even with his eyes closed all he can see are lines of code scrolling and scrolling until they blur together and become an indistinguishable mass. His hands ache: fingers sore from the overtime he put in the last two weeks and how much typing it entailed; wrists twinging occasionally in a way that warns of strain from overuse.

And even though all he wants to do is melt into his mattress and remain one with it until he’s forced to roll out of bed and go into work on Monday, someone has been knocking on his front door for several minutes.

Yuuri’s groan gets lost in his pillow.

Who is so hell-bent on forcing him up and through his apartment to answer the door? Why won’t they give up and let him finish sleeping through the rest of his Saturday?

On his bedside table, his phone starts buzzing with a call and Yuuri groans again. But, at least answering the phone is significantly easier than answering the door. Reaching out blindly, he slides his phone off the table onto the bed next to him and turns his head just enough so his words aren’t muffled by his pillow as he answers.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to keep ignoring me or are you going to answer the door?” Phichit asks.

Yuuri’s brain is still spinning from two straight weeks of overtime and half-asleep from his day-long rest. He blinks sluggishly, trying to place Phichit’s voice with the question that was asked.

“Answer the door?”

“I’ve been knocking for almost five minutes. I think your neighbor is pissed off.”

“Knocking?” Yuuri repeats, and then every clicks. Shoving himself upright, Yuuri nearly falls off his bed. “You’ve been the person knocking on my door?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“Coming! Sorry!” Ending the call, Yuuri reaches for his glasses and tumbles out of bed. He grabs the first hoodie he finds and pulls it on, giving his hair a cursory comb with his fingers as he leaves his room and crosses the apartment to open the door.

Despite having just been told that it was Phichit standing outside his door, it’s still bizarre to see Phichit standing outside his apartment. The younger man runs his gaze over Yuuri, a slight frown crossing his face. It’s gone in a flash, replaced by a bright smile as Phichit leans forward slightly.

“Since you obviously just got out of bed I suppose I should say ‘good morning’ even though it’s nearly dinner time.”

Yuuri steps to the side, letting Phichit into his apartment and closing the door behind him. Phichit only takes a few steps inside, hands shoved in his pockets as a bag dangles from one elbow.

It’s surreal to have Phichit inside his apartment. This flat is the one place that Yuuri has that is completely cut off from his day-to-day life. For lack of a better word, it’s essentially his sanctuary: a place where he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances or pretending like he’s okay when he’s not. Sure, he’s had people over once or twice, but it’s a rare occurrence and always happens with at least a week of advance notice.

Out of all the people who could randomly show up on his doorstep, Phichit is definitely the most unbalancing. After all, Phichit exists in some weird gray realm between his work and personal life: the manufactured bridge between them. Even though Yuuri considers Phichit a friend, he can’t ever forget how their friendship was built on abnormal circumstances.

It’s…weird to see him in Yuuri’s private world but strangely not uncomfortable.

“How did you know where I live?” Yuuri asks.

“Yuuko gave me your address.”

“Yuuko?”

Phichit turns to face Yuuri, giving him an appraising look before a small smile curls onto his lips. “Sometimes you can be quite oblivious, you know.”

Yuuri gives a helpless shrug, at a complete loss over what Phichit is referring to (which he supposes only proves Phichit’s point). He has no idea why Yuuko would give Phichit his address, much less when the two of them started talking outside of the activities their group will do on the weekends.

“Your place is nice, I’m jealous.” Phichit changes the subject in the blink of the eye, venturing further inside as he looks at his surroundings. There’s enthusiasm in his voice that Yuuri would believe more if it wasn’t in such sharp contrast to the tone of the sentence Phichit uttered directly before.

He’s known Phichit for almost two months at this point, and the way the other man can ceaselessly navigate a conversation in (seemingly) any direction he wants it to is still both awe-inspiring and slightly terrifying.

Yuuri rolls with the subject change—because that’s all there is to do when it comes to Phichit—and follows the younger man into his flat. Phichit chatters about various objects: the photos of Yuuri’s family on the wall (he’s able to name everyone pictured without trouble), the collection of game consoles and games next to the television, the dances shoes lying carelessly next to a gym bag in the hallway. Yuuri trails behind Phichit, adding comments here and there, feeling more talkative the more Phichit chatters, as if Phichit’s energy is somehow infectious and seeping into Yuuri’s bones.

When they reach the kitchen, Phichit places his bag on the counter and gives Yuuri a disarming smile. “I assume you haven’t eaten all day.”

The question comes out innocent enough, but the truth behind it (exposed with ease by Phichit) makes Yuuri shift on his feet slightly before admitting, “No, I haven’t.”

There’s a thoughtful hum as Phichit begins unloading ingredients from the bag. “Obviously your job is really important to you and you want to do your work justice, but you can’t perform your best if you don’t take care of yourself.” Phichit looks up from his ingredients to arch an eyebrow at Yuuri. “You should know that as one of Minako-sensei’s students.”

“Dancing and programming are quite different.”

“I know, doesn’t change the facts. Even if you’re just sitting at a computer using all that brain power takes energy from your body that you have to replenish. Where are your knives?”

Yuuri walks around the counter to open the drawer right next to Phichit.

“Cutting board?”

Another drawer is opened and Phichit takes the board, places some vegetables on it and puts down a knife next to them. “Well, don’t just stand there, help me make this.”

Yuuri stifles a sigh and turns to wash his hands. “You never told me why Yuuko gave you my address.”

When he turns around, he walks right into Phichit’s finger as it flicks him in the forehead. Yuuri gives out a yelp (more of surprise than pain) and claps a hand against his forehead to ward from further assault.

Phichit’s voice is dry as he says, “You have friends that look out for you. She said you’ve been stressed with projects and overworking yourself. She was worried.”

“She could have told me that at lunch break.”

“She tried, Yuuri. Evidently, you dodged the subject. Yuuko called me because she was hoping I’d get through to you.” Yuuri opens his mouth to defend himself but Phichit is already switching topics. “Do you have a pan?”

Pointing to a drawer to Phichit’s left, Yuuri says, “I’ve just been busy with work, it happens.”

Phichit turns to dig out a pan. His voice is soft with his next words. “I thought I had done something to make you upset at the afterparty.”

“Upset?” Yuuri can’t even imagine what would have upset him from that night. Even now, a small smile plays on his lips at the memory of dancing with Phichit.

“I haven’t heard a word from you since. It’s been two weeks.”

Eyes widening, Yuuri wracks his brain. He knows he’s been too exhausted on the weekends (or working on his panel) to go out with his coworkers, but he must have texted Phichit at some point to explain? He _had_ thought of texting Phichit to explain, but now he can’t remember actually following through with that thought process.

Phichit glances over his shoulder, giving Yuuri a wry smile. “You’re definitely the type that needs alone time to recharge so I didn’t want to pester you. But what Yuuko said makes sense: you must be dealing with a lot at work. She mentioned something about a panel?”

There has been more than one occasion where Yuuri found himself envying the way Phichit can relate to people, the way the younger man can make so much clear in just a few words, with just the right tone. Of course, it’s not infallible—thanks to Mila, Yuuri has seen Phichit flustered and he savors the memory—but it’s an innate skill that Yuuri wishes he was better at.

It’s almost impossible to understand how Phichit simply pulled the mood from tense to relaxed in mere sentences. How Phichit admitted Yuuri’s sudden disappearance had been hurtful, acknowledged that he understands why it happened, and forgave Yuuri and moved past the incident without Yuuri having to say a single word.

More than once, Yuuri has wondered if this is something Phichit can do with everyone he meets, or if there is something about Yuuri that makes him particularly easy for Phichit to read.

Nonetheless, Yuuri feels the tension draining from his shoulders and he steps up to the kitchen counter. Cutting the vegetables with practiced ease, he allows himself a slightly tired sigh. “I got asked to speak on two panels at MX.”

“MX?” Phichit repeats, glancing at him with furrowed brows.

After spending the majority of his college life and almost all of his adult life surrounded by people in the video game industry, sometimes Yuuri forgets that Phichit has just the basic understanding of that world.

Nodding, he explains, “Monsoon Expo, it’s a conference hosted by the company every year. Basically, it’s a bunch of panels about ongoing games with announcements on what we’re doing next and sometimes game launches.” Yuuri tilts his head thoughtfully. “Last I heard it’s one of the largest game conferences in the country.”

“Is this where your game is launching?”

Another nod. “The last day of the conference we’ll have the launch party. It’s the beginning of next month, so we have three weeks now to make sure everything is running smoothly for the game.”

“And you have three weeks to get the panels together.” Phichit sweeps the chopped vegetables into the pan and gives Yuuri a searching look. “How are you with public speaking?”

Running his hands through his hair, Yuuri says, “Decent? I’ve done panels before and when it’s on something I really enjoy I’m alright at it. But this is a huge event and they just put me on two of them without much warning…I’m in charge of pulling together one of them and it’s a bit…”

“Overwhelming?” Phichit suggests.

“Exactly.”

There’s a thoughtful hum as Phichit turns, placing the pan on the stove and flicking on one of the burners. “I definitely don’t know much about the stress of getting a game ready for launch and public speaking doesn’t really bother me.”

Yuuri lets out a snort at that—of course, public speaking doesn’t bother Phichit.

“Don’t laugh!” Phichit protests, shooting a playful glare at Yuuri over his shoulder before turning back to the stove. “As I was saying, I don’t have much experience with what you’re going through, but the charity case was sort of similar. We got a lot of time to prepare our solos and it took me a long time to make sure I could do the piece justice and then I got thrown into the duet and two group numbers kind of last minute. It was really stressful.”

Yuuri hadn’t even thought about when Phichit learned the group numbers. He can still picture them in his mind’s eye and he would never have guessed they were as last minute as Phichit is suggesting. “You handled it well.”

“Because I let myself relax and recharge—did things I enjoyed and was around people that made me happy. That way I was always ready to work when I needed to and was able to focus.” Phichit shrugs. “You’re too interesting to turn into one of those mindless worker ant stereotypes, Yuuri. Do you have any spices?”

Yuuri steps around Phichit and opens a cabinet just next to Phichit’s head.

“Oh, this is more than I was expecting, do you cook a lot?” Phichit grabs a few bottles and shakes them into the pan.

“I used to cook a lot. Not as much now.”

“Too busy?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Phichit shrugs. “It happens. Taste this.”

A spoon is held out in the space between them, and Yuuri blinks at it. “I’m sorry?”

“Taste it, Yuuri! I like things spicy but I want to make sure it’s not too hot for you since you’re the one who hasn’t eaten all day.”

“Oh…okay.” Yuuri reaches out, gently grasping the Phichit’s hand as he leans forward to guide the spoonful of food into his mouth. And it’s like Yuuri’s body decided to forget about being hungry until a taste of food entered his system because suddenly he’s starving. Focusing past the hunger, Yuuri gives a pleased hum at the spread of flavors on his tongue. “It’s good. I’ll get some bowls.”

Phichit blinks up at him. “R-right. Bowls would be…we need…great.”

His less than articulate reply is definitely weird, but Phichit quickly turns back to the stove so Yuuri decides to drop the issue in favor of getting out bowls and utensils. As he digs through his fridge for something to drink, Phichit shovels the food into the bowls.

“How does a movie sound?” Phichit asks.

It sounds much better than making conversation over food, Yuuri realizes. Given how exhausted he is he’s not sure he can keep up with Phichit’s habit of jumping from subject to subject much longer. He nods. “Sounds good.”

“Great! Since you’ve never watched the best movie in existence, I brought it.” Phichit squints over at the television. “Do you have a DVD player?”

“I can play it on one of the game consoles,” Yuuri says, pulling the only other item in Phichit’s bag out.

The DVD cover is bright and slightly gaudy, and Yuuri smiles slightly at the title: _The King and The Skater_. He distinctly remembers Phichit’s outrage when he admitted that he’d never seen the film.

“You’re such a gamer geek,” Phichit laughs, following Yuuri into the living room. Putting the food on the low table, he says, “You have, like, every game console out but you don’t have a DVD player.”

“DVD players are redundant when you already have a console that can play the movie.”

“Still…it’s kind of hilarious. I can picture you holed up in here playing games all Saturday.”

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri doesn’t argue—mostly because Phichit’s assumption is true. Instead, he plops onto the couch next to Phichit. “This movie had better be amazing.”

“It’s mind-blowing,” Phichit insists, grinning from ear-to-ear. “And if you don’t love it, I’m breaking up with you.”

That pulls a laugh from Yuuri. “I’m still pretty positive you can’t break up with me if we’re not actually dating.”

Phichit’s grin falters for a split-second, gone and back before Yuuri can really be sure he saw it happen. Before he can ask about it, Phichit shoves a bowl into Yuuri’s hand. “Eat up and don’t talk during the movie, Katsuki.”

“Yes, sir.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit realizes something new and has a hard time adjusting to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I finally had the time to work on this update I wanted some phichuuri inspiration and came to AO3 to the _horrid_ realization that there are almost no phichuuri-endgame fics. It was a dark day for me. A really dark day.

Sometimes Phichit doesn’t realize how exhausted he has been until he has a fantastic night of sleep. As he slowly wakes from one such glorious night of sleep, he takes a moment to berate himself for not following the very advice he had given Yuuri. He has been working hard, has been dancing even harder, it stands to reason he is exhausted since he hasn’t been taking regular breaks.

But it’s difficult to dwell on such things now, when he’s so comfortable, and still floating between dreams and reality. After all, still being half-asleep is the only logical explanation for the consistent electronic ‘ _blings’_ sounding above him.

If he didn’t know better Phichit might assume someone was playing a video game. Maybe Super Mario?

The idea makes him smile and Phichit turns his head to burrow deeper against his pillow. He doesn’t have practice today, doesn’t have a job, his paper can wait a few more hours.

Except, what he turns toward is too hard to be his pillow.

In the next breath, Phichit feels wide awake, his heart pounding as he retraces his steps from yesterday. The day when he crashed into Yuuri’s (extremely nice) apartment, cooked Yuuri a meal and sat down to watch _The King and the Skater_. Dread curls in his stomach as he realizes he doesn’t remember watching through the end of the movie, much less packing it and heading back to his own place.

Slowly, reluctantly, Phichit shifts his hand so it’s resting against what can only be Yuuri’s chest. Blinking open his eyes he takes in the sight of Yuuri’s living room, the television off and his DVD settled on the table.

Well, he’ll have to face the facts eventually.

Steeling himself, Phichit pushes himself upright only to be caught by arms around his back. Phichit can feel the soft hum that Yuuri makes rumble through his chest before he speaks, “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, sorry for passing out on you, guess I was more tired than I thought. I’ll just-” Phichit tries to get up again but Yuuri’s arms don’t give so much as an inch.

“I’m in the middle of a level, one second.”

Listening carefully to Yuuri’s response, Phichit feels himself relax incrementally: Yuuri doesn’t sound mad. That realization makes Phichit’s urgent need to get up and apologize fade a little bit. Craning his neck, Phichit thinks he can make out the corner of a handheld gaming system and belatedly realizes the electronic ‘ _blings’_ haven’t stopped, meaning they weren’t part of his dream but instead part of Yuuri’s game.

With Yuuri insistent on finishing his level before letting Phichit up, Phichit gives up on attempting to put as much distance between them as possible and slumps back down, letting his head drop on Yuuri’s chest.

“How long have you been awake?” he asks, talking to distract himself from how nice this feels.

Even though the pair of them are a tight fit on the couch, their legs tangled together, Phichit’s other arm squished against the back cushion, Phichit feels so comfortable he might just melt into a puddle of satisfied goo. Listening to Yuuri’s voice accompanied by the soft music of the game is relaxing, and Phichit fights the urge to let his eyes flutter shut again.

“Maybe half-an-hour or so. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It feels like a big deal because Phichit has no business feeling so warm right now, not when both he and Yuuri are wearing thin t-shirts and jeans, not when the AC is clearly running to keep the apartment cool. His cheeks shouldn’t feel like they’re going to burn, he shouldn’t be so concerned about Yuuri picking up the pounding of his heartbeat.

He shouldn’t want some excuse to stay here, splayed on top of Yuuri, for the rest of the morning.

He shouldn’t silently curse Yuuri for being so good at video games when Yuuri’s game makes a victorious trill and one of Yuuri’s arms drops to hang over the edge of the couch to release Phichit from his hold.

With no excuse for further contact, Phichit pushes himself upright and immediately glances away from Yuuri, sparing himself from having to take in how ridiculously attractive his sleep-mussed hair looks or the soft smile that’s directed up at Phichit.

“Your phone was vibrating like crazy before you woke up,” Yuuri says as he sits up and stretches. “You might want to check it, I’ll see what I have for breakfast.”

“I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have,” Phichit protests.

“You’re not intruding. Thanks to you I feel better than I have the last couple of weeks.”

Like that, Yuuri is gone, getting up from the couch and trailing around it to head into the kitchen. Phichit watches him go and considers arguing further before accepting that this is an argument he won’t win. There aren’t a lot of things Yuuri is adamant about, but when Yuuri _is_ firm about something it’s almost impossible to change his mind.

Reaching out, Phichit plucks his phone off of the coffee table and unlocks it, blinking down at the number of notifications from his messenger app.

_[group chat] The Fab4_

[23:22] Leo  
‘chit? a little heads up b4 u vanish?  
usually u tell one of us if you’re staying out late  
everything cool?

[23:25] Seung-gil  
Wasn’t he working today?

[23:26] Guang-Hong  
he said he would be done around 5  
we were planning to watch the bachelor together

[23:27] Leo  
(￣x￣;)  
y do u like that? it’s trash

[23:28] Guang-Hong  
why do you watch big brother  
it gets dumber every year

[23:29] Seung-gil  
If he was supposed to be working should we be concerned?

[23:29] Leo  
what?

[23:30] Seung-gil  
Phichit.  
He only tells us when he’s working in case something happens, right?  
That service is basically him meeting strangers all the time.  
Should we be worried?

[23:31] Leo  
shit  
idk

[23:32] Guang-Hong  
maybe he met up with some friends?

[23:33] Seung-gil  
We don’t really have much to take to the police for a missing person’s report.  
Not sure they’d take it seriously anyway.

 _[10:07] leo has changed the chat name to ‘chit come home_  

[10:07] Leo  
‘CHIT WHERE R U??

[10:10] Leo  
seriously u never do this  
r u okay?

[10:25] Guang-Hong  
@phichit? You’re okay right?

[10:45] Seung-gil  
If you’re ignoring our messages you’re being an ass

[11:03] Leo  
‘chit….come on

[11:12] Phichit  
hey, sorry for worrying you guys

[11:12] Leo  
HOLY SHIT  
I WAS HAVING A HEART ATTACK  
WHERE R U?

[11:13] Phichit  
i’m fine  
i’m at yuuri’s

[11:13] Leo  
……….  
yuuri as in your fake boyfriend?

[11:13] Phichit  
…yes

[11:14] Seung-gil  
Finally.

[11:14] Guang-Hong  
(ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

[11:14] Leo  
b(~_^)d

[11:15] Seung-gil  
Makes sense.  
Yuuri’s the only person who gets Phichit to break routine these days.

[11:16] Phichit  
not like that, nothing happened  
i just…it’s a long story

[11:17] Seung-gil  
Everything with Yuuri is a long story.

[11:17] Leo  
we can wait  
just don’t scare us like that again

[11:18] Phichit  
i won’t. sorry for scaring you guys  
see you later

Phichit winces as he scrolls through the messages, guilt twisting in his gut for making his friends worry. He is usually upfront when he’s planning on being out all night and Seung-gil’s concerns about how he meets clients aren’t anything Phichit himself hasn’t worried over himself.  

Pocketing his phone, Phichit gets to his feet and takes in Yuuri’s apartment anew, no longer preoccupied with trying to drag the kind, slightly sarcastic, and headstrong, man out from underneath glassy eyes and a blank stare. It’s an extremely welcoming space for someone who never has company, spacious with little elements that scream ‘Yuuri’ everywhere he looks.

Moving slowly around the couch, Phichit pauses next to a cluster of framed photos, smiling at the image of a little boy hugging a toy poodle to his chest. Next to that is the same boy playing in the sand with an older girl—Yuuri and his sister. There is a family in all of the photos, an extremely close one, and a part of Phichit wonders how Yuuri can stand to be so far away from them all.

“Breakfast is done!”

Yuuri’s voice tugs Phichit from his contemplation and he moves away from the photos and toward the kitchen with a smile. “You really didn’t have to make me anything.”

“It’s just a quick omelet,” Yuuri replies, “I haven’t been to the store recently so I don’t have much to work with. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” Phichit slides into a seat at the kitchen counter, grinning at the plate that Yuuri pushes in front of him. “This looks amazing.”

A small smile is flashed in Phichit’s direction as Yuuri pours two mugs of coffee and places one in front of Phichit along with sugar and cream within reach. “Are you working today?”

“No, I just have some homework to get done but for once I’m not drowning in assignments.”

Yuuri gives a soft hum of acknowledgment as he settles into the seat next to Phichit and starts eating. They fall into a companionable silence as they work through the massive omelets Yuuri made. Phichit sneaks glances at the other man out of the corner of his eyes, wanting to talk but not sure what he wants to say, not sure how he wants to dive into a conversation about the fact that he fell asleep on Yuuri’s chest or that he barged into Yuuri’s home without invitation or the fact that he had been upset not to hear from Yuuri for weeks even though Yuuri doesn’t owe him so much as a forewarning if he decides he no longer needs to keep up the charade of dating that Phichit is being paid to undergo.

“Hey, Phichit?” He glances up from his plate to look at Yuuri properly. Yuuri only meets his gaze for a second before dropping his own eyes down to his almost finished food. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” If anyone should be apologizing, it should be Phichit. “For what?”

“For going radio silent like that. I had fun with you at the cast party and I knew you were pretty drunk so I should have texted you or something the next day so you weren’t worried about anything happening.”

Shaking his head, Phichit says, “I was being dramatic. I mean…we’re not actually dating and you don’t need to give me an explanation when you eventually don’t find this arrangement beneficial.”

Brown eyes flick up from the counter to meet Phichit’s gaze and Phichit is startled by the hard edge he finds there. Yuuri puts his fork down, shifts so he’s facing Phichit completely, and leans forward, one finger pointing accusingly against Phichit’s chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like this is just a business agreement for you, especially not after you showed up out of nowhere to cook me dinner last night.” Yuuri’s voice is firm, brokering no room for argument. There’s a slight waver in it, an emotion Phichit can’t identify and is too stunned to seriously pay attention to.

Phichit shrugs, feeling slightly helpless in the face of Yuuri’s boldness. “You know it’s not. I always have fun when I see you and you’ve definitely made my semester less stressful when it comes to paying bills but I feel like I’m getting more out of this than you are.”

Yuuri jabs at Phichit’s chest in reprimand for the comment but a small smile plays on his lips, the hard edge in his eyes tempering slightly. “This is a bit of a role reversal. Usually, you’re the one talking me out of my irrational doubts.”

“It’s not irrational, Yuuri, you’ve done much more for me than I have for you.”

“You came last night because Yuuko was worried about me because she’s my friend. Before I met you, Yuuko and I were just coworkers, I was alone on the weekends and alone when I was having issues with my anxiety and my stress. You helped me make more friends, that’s pretty damn valuable. And, you’re my friend too, Phichit.” Yuuri’s smile widens and he tilts his head to one side. “If you want to get rid of me you’re going to have to block my number.”

The declaration, almost word-for-word what Phichit told Yuuri several weeks ago, robs Phichit of any words and he stares at Yuuri, mouth slightly agape.

It isn’t fair.

The way Yuuri’s smile makes his eyes sparkle, the way there is nothing but sincerity in his face and his voice, the way black hair brushes against his forehead, the way Yuuri’s form is all but drowning in the oversized hoodie he’s pulled on after getting up from the couch.

Yuuri is incredibly kind—one of the nicest people Phichit’s ever met. Yuuri is so much fun to be around—evidenced by how much Phichit missed him the last two weeks. Yuuri is beautiful—effortlessly so and becoming prettier every time they see each other.

Phichit knows that Yuuri has no idea how much Phichit would do for him to see that smile.

It was Leo who called it, after the first night when they all ran into each other at trivia. All of Phichit’s friends realized he was crushing long before he did, and now that the butterflies in Phichit’s stomach are too restless for him to ignore them any longer he knows he’s in way too deep, it’s too late to pull back.

It is a jumble of emotions that are difficult to withstand, that make Phichit want to roll into bed and lounge under his covers for at least a month. But he knows Yuuri by now, knows that him bolting after a conversation like this will probably make Yuuri think Phichit hates him—which is the furthest thing from the truth.

So, he smiles back. “I was being ridiculous, sorry. Of course, you’re more than a client to me.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, my brain does the same thing a lot. Sometimes it just helps to hear the truth from someone else.”

Phichit nods in agreement and turns back to his omelet, his appetite gone but in desperate need of something to distract him from the realization that just hit him over the head with a vengeance. They sit in silence for another couple of minutes before Yuuri speaks up again.

“Can I take you somewhere? It won’t take long, I promise.”

He should say no. Being around Yuuri anymore after the weekend he’s had will only make these feelings worse. But looking at Yuuri…Phichit is struck powerless by the slight trace of nerves he can see playing in Yuuri’s eyes, waiting for rejection.

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit’s voice is soft, barely more than a whisper. His hands are clenched at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms.

“Yes?” Yuuri’s voice— _damn him_ —is calm, even, playing at innocence as if Yuuri has no idea what has Phichit so rattled.

“When you said you wanted to take me somewhere this was not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

Phichit clenches his jaw, refusing to admit that he had absolutely no expectations on where they were going and was just blindly following Yuuri trying not to internally panic over his recent realization of his massive fucking crush on the man in question. Phichit had been so preoccupied he might have followed Yuuri into a ditch without realizing where they were.

But at the moment he thinks he’d rather prefer the ditch. “Why are we here?”

Finally, Yuuri turns around, eyebrow cocked. “Your shoes are worn to the bone, Phichit. Your dance slippers, your character shoes, they all need replacing.”

“They’re fine,” Phichit lies.

“Why don't you replace at least the slippers? Those aren’t too pricey.”

Dropping Yuuri’s gaze Phichit lets out an exasperated sigh. “If I replace the slippers then all my other old shoes will feel more uncomfortable in comparison and replacing them all at once is more than I can afford right now.” Meeting Yuuri’s gaze again, he adds, “Which is why I’m not letting you buy me new ones.”

“Phichit, you’re a college student, money is tight. Believe me, I experienced that struggle first-hand. But my job pays really well and I’m not using the extra cash on anything important.” That smile tugs on Yuuri’s lips again as he reaches out, fingers closing around one of Phichit’s wrists to tug him forward slightly. “Let me do this for you, please.”

“Why?”

“Your shoes have been bothering me for weeks, I just knew it would be impossible to drag you here because you’re so stubborn about accepting help.” Yuuri shrugs. “I even thought about asking Minako to help me figure out your size but it really is best when they’re fitted properly.”

Phichit stares at the entrance to the store, struggling with how wonderful it would be to have new shoes and his pride. He already receives significant help from Yuuri, who has been paying him more than what is reasonable for each weekend outing they go on together.

“Let me make up for the last two weeks of going MIA?” Yuuri prods.

He knows how difficult it will be to talk Yuuri out of this, especially if the older man has been contemplating it for some time. And Phichit can’t honestly say he wants to talk Yuuri out of it.

“…okay.”

The smile grows wider until it’s beaming at Phichit and he feels his cheeks heat up in response. Dropping Yuuri’s gaze, Phichit lets the older man pull him into the dance store and to the sitting area where fittings occur.

“Let me find someone to help us. Be right back.” Yuuri vanishes among the rows of shoes before Phichit can reply.

Which is just as well because Phichit is 100% absolutely panicking. Pulling out his phone, he reopens the group chat with his roommates.

[13:02] Phichit  
guys  
Help

[13:02] Guang-Hong  
?????

[13:02] Phichit  
I’m at a dance store  
with yuuri  
he wants to buy me new shoes  
like…all of them, replace all of my old ones

[13:03] Seung-gil  
You’ve been complaining about needing new shoes for months.  
What’s the problem?

[13:03] Phichit  
i can’t just…let him do this 

[13:03] Guang-Hong  
why not? 

[13:04] Phichit  
he already spends too much money on me

[13:04] Guang-Hong  
last I remember your rates weren’t that high?

[13:05] Phichit  
….he pays more than my usual rate  
and a flat fee

[13:05] Seung-gil  
How much does he pay?

[13:05] Phichit  
……. $45

[13:05] Guang-Hong  
AN HOUR?

[13:06] Seung-gil  
And the flat fee?

[13:06] Phichit  
$125

[13:06] Seung-gil  
So, two hours with Yuuri makes you what?  
Six times more money than a normal client?

[13:07] Guang-Hong  
（゜◇゜）

[13:07] Phichit  
he insisted!

_[13:07] leo has changed the chat name to sugar baby chulanont_

[13:07] Phichit  
LEO

[13:08] Leo  
is there a lie?  
he’s paying u a lot & buying u new shoes?

[13:08] Phichit  
we argued over the rate for days!  
he said i’m doing a lot more than what i would do for a normal client  
and sometimes he doesn’t feel well and needs to leave early  
and he said he didn’t want to cost me money when that happens

[13:09] Leo  
and developing a crush on him is outside your usual services too

[13:09] Phichit  
i’m gonna kill you

[13:09] Seung-gil  
So…what’s the problem?  
Let him buy you the shoes.

[13:09] Phichit  
but

[13:09] Leo  
he’s a team leader @ his job, right?

[13:10] Phichit  
yeah

[13:10] Leo  
4 a major company  
working on a ground-breaking & highly-anticipated game  
he’s probably making six figures  
let him buy u some shoes

[13:10] Phichit  
….you’re joking right?  
about his salary?

[13:10] Seung-gil  
Just did some research. Leo’s guess is probably accurate.

[13:11] Phichit  
omfg

[13:11] Leo  
i expect 2 see some fancy new dance shoes when u get back  
knock him dead sugar

[13:11] Phichit  
L E O

“Mr. Chulanont, is it?”

Hastily locking his phone screen, Phichit looks up and smiles at the lady who walks over to him, arms already balancing a handful of shoe boxes that she puts down on the ground next to Phichit. When she straightens she offers her hand with a smile.

“Wonderful to meet you. Mr. Katsuki said you would be needing at least two new pairs of ballet slippers and some character shoes?”

Glancing past the woman, Phichit cocks an eyebrow at Yuuri, who is taking a seat with a slightly guilty expression on his face. “Did he?”

“Indeed!” The woman says, oblivious to the wry tone in Phichit’s voice as she opens one box. “And he had an idea about your sizes that looks accurate from what I’m seeing. Let’s look at a couple of these and go from there.”

 

* * *

 

When Phichit finally gets back to his apartment it’s well into the afternoon and he fervently wants to lock himself in his room until he can sort out his thoughts and find some way to be in the same room as Yuuri without feeling like his stomach is going to tie into knots.

Of course, that’s not going to be possible, and he knows that before he even turns the lock, steps inside to kick his shoes off, and glances at the kitchen table where his roommates are settled with their laptops.

Only Seung-gil keeps working when Phichit appears, the other two look up from their screens to take in Phichit’s appearance. Scanning him from head-to-toe, no doubt noticing the fact that the thin hoodie he wears isn’t his, taking in the fact that he’s carrying two black bags from the high-end dance store. Weighing him.

“I’m back,” he says, rather redundantly.

“You were gone all day,” Guang-Hong comments. “I didn’t realize it takes that long to buy shoes.”

Phichit stifles a sigh. “It doesn’t, we stopped to get something to eat on the way back.”

“Oh.” There’s clear amusement on Guang-Hong’s face but he doesn’t pursue that line of conversation.

“What about the shoes?” Seung-gil asks, finally looking up from his laptop to look at the bags. “Can we see?”

Putting the bags on the empty space on the table, Phichit takes out four boxes. Passing one to Seung-gil as he says, “Yuuri insisted that I needed two pairs of slippers and character shoes with all the dancing I’m doing.”

“That’s nice of him,” Guang-Hong says.

Leo, who has been silent the whole time, eyes fixed on Phichit’s face so carefully that Phichit can’t help but feel a little nervous under the scrutiny, clears his throat and closes his laptop. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine?” Phichit can’t help that his response is completely lacking in confidence, unsure where Leo’s sudden question came from.

“You look a little…overwhelmed,” Leo prods, tilting his head as his eyes rove Phichit’s face once more before understanding dawns on his. “You…really do like him, don’t you?”

With the truth out in the open, Phichit lets out a groan and sinks into the empty chair, covering his face with his hands. “Why does he have to be so damn nice? And smart? And attractive?”

There’s another click, another laptop lid closed, and a hand pats Phichit on the shoulder. It’s Guang-Hong to Phichit’s left who asks, “What happened?”

“Can I just lock myself in my room and pretend nothing happened?” Phichit whines instead, trying to play up the dramatics to hide how much he’s floundering in the tumultuous sea of his own emotions.

Something is put down on the table, Phichit’s bags moved away from in front of him. Another laptop lid clicks closed and then there’s the sound of liquid being poured into a cup. Peeking between his fingers, Phichit finds Seung-gil pouring Jack into four cups before mixing the whiskey with coke.

All of his roommates reach for a cup and Phichit lowers his hands, searching their faces in turn and seeing nothing but understanding and a willingness to listen in their gazes. He really doesn’t know how he lucked out with such a great group of friends.

Picking up the last cup, Phichit takes a sip and grimaces—Seung-gil’s liquor to coke ratio is a little skewed in favor of the liquor—and he starts from the beginning.

He had skimmed over his experience at the afterparty, not wanting to dwell on how much fun he had that night pretending to be Yuuri’s boyfriend, bragging about Yuuri’s accomplishments, getting to hang onto Yuuri’s arm as he splayed across the older man’s lap. Now, he tells his friends everything: from the party to the two weeks of silence to coffee with Yuuko.

Seung-gil keeps everyone’s cups full, getting up at one point for water bottles that are placed on the table so they’re in reach as Phichit admits to showing up at Yuuri’s apartment and making him dinner. His cheeks are hot as he talks about waking up on Yuuri’s chest and not being allowed to move until Yuuri finished his level, he recounts their conversation over breakfast and their experience at the dance store.

And then Phichit gets to his late lunch with Yuuri, settled across from him in a quiet restaurant, a purchase of his brand-new shoes next to him on the booth seat. He hadn’t been allowed to hear about any prices or see tags during the shopping trip but Phichit is a dancer by trade and he recognizes the label of one of the most premium brands, had been able to feel the quality of the shoes during the little he moved in them.

His continuous stream of thanks fell on deaf ears to Yuuri, who merely blushed and mumbled that it’s what he had wanted to do—a stark contrast from the determination that had muscled Phichit into agreeing to the excursion in the first place.

Phichit explains how he got Yuuri to open up about the panels that had Yuuri so stressed over the last two weeks, about his nerves regarding the presentations and, to his credit, Phichit only slightly mumbles when he admits the offer he made—high on the relaxing effect of Yuuri’s presence, on the exhilaration of how much Yuuri likes spending time with him, on Yuuri’s stupid unfair smile.

“I’m sorry, you what?” Leo interrupts at that point, eyes wide.

Dropping his forehead to the table, Phichit says, “I offered to go with him to the conference.”

“ _Phichit_.”

“I know. It’s stupid. I just…he’s nervous but he’s going to do great but he’d probably be fantastic with some support. I don’t have any performances around that time and I-”

“Phichit,” Seung-gil cuts him off, “you offered to go to Anaheim with Yuuri for a three-day conference pretending to be his boyfriend the whole time right after you realized that you have a crush on him?”

“I know,” Phichit repeats, eyes closed as he tries to focus on the feeling of the unyielding wood against his forehead. “He tried to talk me out of it.”

“Tried?” Guang-Hong asks. “As in, he failed?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to the conference with him.” Guang-Hong seems to need the statement in the definitive.

“Yes.”

“Oh man, Phichit,” Leo mumbles, “you’ve got it bad.”

“ _I know._ ” He finally looks up at his friends. “What do I do?”

Seung-gil rolls his eyes. “My suggestion would have been not to go to a conference with him but it’s too late for that.”

“I’m so fucked,” Phichit groans. “How am I supposed to do this without making an idiot of myself? He’ll probably want to stop everything if he figures out that I like him.”

Guang-Hong tilts his head thoughtfully. “Or maybe he likes you too.” Phichit scoffs and Guang-Hong shrugs. “It’s not crazy to consider. You’re attractive and really considerate and you two spend a lot of time together. Not to mention he went to that party with you when he didn’t have to.”

Leo nods enthusiastically. “That’s totally a possibility! Okay, Phichit, to salvage this shitshow you got yourself into you can use the conference as a chance to figure out if he likes you too. There will probably be plenty of times when the two of you are alone so you don’t have to put on a show. Seeing how he acts with you when no one else around…” he leaves the sentence hanging meaningfully.

Seung-gil finishes the thought with a curt nod of his own. “…will make everything clearer. It’s not a horrible idea.”

“Except for the fact that I’ll probably make a fool of myself by tripping over my own feet when he does something nice.”

“You’ll be fine, ‘Chit. You’ve got some time before the conference, you can prepare yourself.”

Phichit studies his roommates. “This is a horrible idea.”

Leo grins. “You’re going to do it anyways.”

“I’m already going to the conference, might as well go all in,” Phichit says, raising his cup in a lazy salute before downing the rest of his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri just wants to see Phichit live his dream and wants to help however he can....a pure soul.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the company's conference just around the corner, Phichit and Yuuri each have some enlightening conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now an updated chapter count because we're nearing the last stretch of the story! I'm 80% positive the story will round out at 14 chapters but that may adjust by no more than one chapter depending on how my plans actually end up shaping into words. Thank you for your patience with me!

As much as dance practice with Minako can be a living hell filled with endless repetition of the exact same sequence over minute details that Phichit doesn’t think anyone besides his dance tutor would care about, there is a certain type of tranquility about Saturday mornings at Minako’s studio that Phichit finds soothing.

Having one-on-one time with a master in their craft is something Phichit occasionally still needs to pinch himself about, and for all that her standards are exacting and precise, Minako is the best teacher Phichit has ever had.

Bending deeper into his stretch, Phichit inhales deeply, soaking in the quiet of the nearly empty dance studio. He loves the fact that his private lesson slot occurs on a day when the studio is closed, that he has the freedom to dance with no one watching beside his tutor. It lets him connect to the dances in a way he doesn’t get to experience anywhere else other than on stage or alone in a rehearsal room.

It lets him forget about all the concerns and stresses and worries that follow him throughout the week. Here, the only thing that matters is the dance.

Exhaling, Phichit rises from the stretch and switches sides, letting any thoughts outside of his passion flow off his shoulders. Coursework and upcoming assignments, bills and bank account balances, clients and scheduling, Yuuri and the stupid crush that has made Phichit’s week a mess of scrambling emotions.

“Morning, Phichit,” Minako greets him as she steps into the studio, hair tied back and wearing practice attire. Her gaze is on her phone as she flicks through the screen, heading directly to the speaker. “I know you have a dance evaluation coming up for mid-terms. You said you don’t have plans for it yet so I found a song that I think might be a good fit.”

Smiling slightly, Phichit straightens, rolling his shoulders lazily as he points out, “I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t let me do my mid-term to Okukawa choreography.”

Standing at the speakers, back turned to him, Minako snorts with amusement. “Of course it wouldn’t be allowed, you have to choreograph the piece yourself. Besides,” Minako tosses a dry look at him over her shoulder, “if I choreographed another piece for you so soon after the last one people will start whispering about you being my protege or something.”

At that, a full-blown grin stretches across his face. “You may not be willing to admit it but I know I’m your favorite student, sensei.”

Minako quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly, before she turns back to the speakers. “Well then, oh student of mine, let’s see what you would do with this song.”

Steeling himself for something classical or instrumental, Phichit steps towards the center of the room as Minako presses play. The first thing he hears is the piano and his eyes fly to Minako in surprise at the relatively bright tempo.[ At the singer’s first lines](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uz_0W3iNNY), Phichit can feel excitement starting to run through his veins.

Ever since starting his dance program, he’s been pushed further and further away from the bright upbeat dancing that he loves doing most toward more ‘sophisticated’ styles. With this, he can feel a happy medium between his favored style and the expectations of his program.

Minako is leaning against the far wall, looking incredibly pleased with herself as the song plays and Phichit finds himself unable to hold back. With a laugh, he starts moving, letting his body flow with the tempo of the song instinctively, playing around with movements and styles, experimenting, trying to decide where he wants to go with the piece.

As the song comes to a close, she calls, “Well, what do you think?”

Turning from the mirror, Phichit grins. “It’s perfect. I haven’t gotten to perform to something like this in a while.”

She shrugs. “These types of songs are usually used more for performance than technical skills, but you’re advanced enough now to be able to combine those aspects. To make this work you need to challenge yourself technically.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Phichit begins listing a few techniques and moves he’d like to incorporate, modifying them at Minako’s occasional suggestions. Digging for his phone to take some notes, he pauses at the sight of the unread message notification, feeling his stomach flip at the name. His finger hovers over the messaging app, wondering if his concentration can withstand contact from Yuuri right now but also unable to deny the temptation of seeing what Yuuri has to say.

“Phichit, are you okay?” Minako’s voice startles Phichit from his indecision.

Flashing an over-bright smile at her, he says, “Sorry, got distracted by something.”

Dark grey eyes carefully rove his face, Minako’s lips pursed as she considers him before she says, “By the way, those are nice shoes. Have you been able to break them in?”

Phichit flinches just slightly, feeling like a guilty child that got caught sneaking dessert early under her sharp gaze. “Thanks. I’m still working on breaking them in.”

“Much better than your old ones, I was worried you would wear holes all the way through the soles before replacing them.” Minako’s voice is light, as if she’s making idle commentary, but something about her gaze makes Phichit feel like she knows where the shoes came from. It wouldn’t be far-fetched, given how close Yuuri and Minako seem to be, but the last thing he wants to do is deal with a Yuuri-based interrogation from his dance tutor.

Minako seems to read that on Phichit’s face and ignore his silent plea to move away from the topic, a mischievous glint flickering across her gaze as she says, “It was nice of your boyfriend to finally get you replacements.”

“I….uh…” he trails off, not sure what to say.

While Yuuri’s name has come up more than once during their lessons, it was never in the context of the pair of them ‘dating’, which Phichit has counted as a blessing. He has no idea what Yuuri has told Minako about him and the last thing he wants is to get caught in a lie around the one person in California who seems to have a strong history with the other man.

He’s saved from having to reply by Minako’s huff of amusement. “That’s exactly what he said when I asked him about it.” Reading the surprise on Phichit’s face, she elaborates, “Yuuri came by Monday evening, right before I was closing down for the night. Seems like someone apparently gave him a lecture about scheduling in time for himself away from work and he was trying it out.” She gives him a smile. “You’re a good friend, Phichit.”

The word choice makes Phichit’s eyes widen. “You know?”

Minako laughs. “Of course. I’ve known Yuuri since before he could walk. I wish I could say that him hiring someone to play his boyfriend surprised me more than it actually did. Though…” the mischief leaks back into her gaze as she muses, “sometimes I have to wonder how much of it is an act.”

Cheeks heating up, Phichit drops his gaze to his phone and opens his notes app. “We’re friends.”

“You are.”

Somehow, the simple agreement of Phichit’s statement feels suspicious and Phichit cautiously looks up from his phone to meet his tutor’s gaze. Minako’s expression is difficult to read, though the way she drums her fingers against her hips is a familiar hallmark of whenever the former prima is trying to puzzle through a unique hurdle with choreography or technique. After a moment, she shrugs and turns back to the speakers, seemingly dismissing the matter altogether.

“Let’s have you freestyle from the beginning of the song one more time before you commit to any ideas, just to make sure you have a strong grasp of the feeling of the song,” Minako says. “If the pair of you are going to keep being oblivious and stubborn then there’s nothing I can say to change that.”

Frowning slightly, Phichit mumbles out a ‘yes, sensei’ as he puts down his phone and prepares to dance, not entirely sure what to make of Minako’s last statement.

The music starts playing before he can take any time to dissect her words, leaving Phichit with no choice but to shove them aside to concentrate on his dancing. Letting out a steady exhale, he forced his shoulders and jaw to relax and let his eyes flutter shut, reacquainting himself with the melody of the song before flowing into a rhythm.

The rest of their lesson passes by smoothly, Phichit beginning to construct a dance that will (hopefully) earn him high marks for the end of the semester under Minako’s watchful eyes. As their hour comes to an end, Minako speaks up, “Do you still remember the piece you danced for your audition to this studio?”

Quirking an eyebrow at the question, Phichit replies, “For the most part.”

“I have a potential new student coming by, to walk through the studio before he does an audition. Would you mind staying around and showing him your audition piece so he has an idea of what I’m looking for?”

It’s rare for Minako to ask Phichit for favors like this, he has noticed his tutor is hyper-aware of how much he does on a weekly basis and seems like she doesn’t want to add extra to his schedule. Minako has done so much for him, helped his dancing grow so much faster than it had any right to, that Phichit can never hesitate to help her on the rare occasions she requests it.

So, it’s not something he has to consider before smiling and saying, “Sure. Let me walk through it to make sure I have all the motions.”

With a nod, Minako glances at the clock. “I’ll step out and meet him, it will probably be fifteen minutes or so before I bring him in here.”

Phichit waves her off, turning his attention to his phone with the intent to pull up the music for his old piece. He hesitates at the notification on his screen—a reminder of Yuuri’s message. She _did_ say he had fifteen minutes before he needed to dance.

Tapping the icon, Phichit pulls up the messaging app.

 _[8:17]_ Yuuri  
 _Your passes for MX went through_  
 _They’re giving you VIP access for everything_  
 _And they gave you an invite for the game_ launch, _if you’re interested_

Ah, right, of course, in his infinite wisdom Phichit agreed to spend three days at a video gaming convention with a man he’s trying his hardest to hide his crush on. The reminder of that fact is definitely not what Phichit needs; he doesn’t need his stomach to twist into a knot again as his emotions fight a war between dread over the situation and excitement to spend time with Yuuri. Ignoring his dread for the moment, Phichit taps out a quick reply.

 _[9:01] Phichit_  
 _that was fast!_  
 _and of course_ i _want to go to the game launch_  
 _you put so much work into it,_ i _want to see the finished product!_

He exits the app quickly, turning his focus back to dancing as he pulls up the music for his routine and begins lightly walking through it. This particular dance he choreographed himself and spent weeks practicing in every spare moment he had. Having the opportunity to audition for Minako had been no small accomplishment and Phichit remembers the nerves he had felt building up to his audition (almost worse than his audition for his dance program). All those hours of practice ingrained the steps into his body and he finds himself moving on pure muscle memory to the song until a knock sounds on the door as a warning and Minako swings it open.

“We have ten different practice rooms here,” she says as she ushers two familiar faces into the room, “five are around this size, which I use for private lessons. The other five are good for group practices.”

“Phichit! I wasn’t expecting to run into you,” Viktor flashes the beaming smile that Phichit swears could blind someone.

Minako glances between them, frowning thoughtfully, “Yuuri did say the two of you are coworkers, I suppose I should have assumed you might know each other.” She turns her gaze to the young man hovering by Viktor’s side. Phichit vaguely recalls seeing him at the showcase. “I’ve been working with Phichit for about a year now, he’s going to perform his original audition piece so you have an idea of what I look for if you decide to audition.”

The teen turns his gaze on Phichit and Phichit quirks an eyebrow at the hard-edge in his bright green eyes. Even without seeing the kid dance, Phichit can tell that he’s the type who will do everything in his power to reach his goals, and this kid _wants_ this.

“You danced at that showcase a few weeks ago,” the teen says. Phichit nods and he huffs. “It was pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Viktor repeats, bemused. “You wouldn’t stop talking about it for days, Yuri.”

At the name, Phichit’s eyes widen. “Your name is Yuri?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

Viktor cuts in, saving Phichit from having to stumble through an explanation. “His boyfriend is Yuuri, the one we met at the showcase.” Glancing at Phichit, Viktor explains, “Yuri’s my younger brother, I’ve mentioned him a couple of times.”

At the prompting, Phichit thinks he might remember the teen coming up in passing in a couple of conversations. Usually, the topic involved Viktor laughing over his brother’s prickly temper, though occasionally he would mention a dance competition or recital he went to for support.

Nodding in recognition, Phichit smiles at the teen. “It’s nice to meet you, Yuri. Give me a second to connect my phone to the speakers and I’ll show you my audition.”

Stepping away from the group, Phichit makes quick work of connecting to the speaker system queuing up his music. Minako steps in to press play for him as he moves to the center of the room, smiling as Viktor and Yuri slide to sit on the floor in front of the mirrors. [A nod at Minako has the music starting and he steps into the dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZeVx_9au5g).

After spending so much time working more technically difficult routines and performing several dances in one night, the steps of this particular dance feel like a cool-down, allowing Phichit’s muscles to relax as he flows easily from element to element. By the time it’s over, he finds his body itching to run through it again, as if missing an old friend.

With a grin, he dips a short bow to the clapping brothers.

“Phichit had one of the best auditions I’ve seen in a while,” Minako says, crossing the room to hand Phichit his phone with a nod of thanks. “As you can see, I’m not looking for you to throw together every difficult technique you have in your tool belt, I really want to see who you are as a performer. I can refine technique, I cannot give a robot emotions.”

Getting to his feet, Viktor says, “I just have a couple of questions about costs and dancer expectations.”

The two move together, speaking quietly over logistics and expenses while Phichit slips off his shoes and packs his bag, ready to head out and get started with the rest of his day.

“Did you choreograph that yourself?”

He jolts at the voice, unaware that anyone had followed him over to the back wall. Glancing over his shoulder, Phichit meets green eyes and nods. “I spent weeks working on it, I was terrified about auditioning here.”

Yuri glances away, looking irritated that the words are even leaving his mouth as he admits, “It was really good.”

“Thanks.”

“Your boyfriend is working on that VR game coming out next month, isn’t he?” Phichit’s eyes widen and Yuri rolls his own. “The old man talks about it sometimes and I game when I’m not at practice. It’s basically the most anticipated game of the year.”

“Right.” Phichit’s well aware that Yuuri’s current project is a big deal (even if he had to ask other people to learn that), but being so far removed from that world makes him forget how big of a deal it is.

“Do you know why he stopped competing?”

Phichit frowns thoughtfully, “He never really danced competitively except for when he was really young it was…why are you shaking your head?”

“I’m not talking about dance, I’m talking about video games,” Yuri says. “I recognized him when we met, he used to be huge on the competitive circuit a couple years back until he just vanished, quit streaming and everything without any explanation.”

With a shrug, Phichit says, “Yuuri never mentioned any of that to me but that does sound like something he would do.”

Yuri snorts. “It doesn’t make any sense why he’s keeping it secret. If people knew he was on the team for the game it would be even bigger than it already is. People still ask about him.”

The teen turns to go back to where Minako and Viktor are talking and is stopped by Phichit’s question. “You said he streamed?”

“Yeah, there are still videos online.”

“What was his username?”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri thinks it may be possible that at least half of the city has decided to cram themselves inside the shopping mall the exact same Saturday he agreed to go shopping with Yuuko. Despite it being difficult to move from store to store without running into fifteen different people, Yuuko is as excited an hour into the trip as she was when she arrived at Yuuri’s door to pick him up.

Even with the crowds, it’s hard not to smile as Yuuko chatters about the latest workplace gossip or the figure skating competition she watched recently. While Yuuri’s positive he lucked out in terms of friendly coworkers, there’s something about Yuuko that makes her easy to be around, that makes Yuuri think this is a friendship that has the potential to really last.

“Yuuri! What do you think?” Yuuko whirls around from a rack, holding up two dresses in slightly different shades of blue.

Flicking his gaze between them, Yuuri says, “The one on the left.”

“Your left or my left?” she asks, eyes twinkling in amusement.

“My left,” Yuuri clarifies, “I think it might go well with those shoes you just got.”

Yuuko lets out a soft gasp and puts the other dress on the rack. “You’re a genius! I’ll never have to drag Takeshi shopping with me again, he might just want to marry you instead.”

Smiling softly, Yuuri protests, “I’m really not a fashion genius.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not, but you do actually pay attention and don’t look like you’d rather die right now than keep shopping.” She pulls a shirt from the rack and holds it up in a silent question. Wrinkling his nose, Yuuri shakes his head and the shirt gets put back on the rack. “Besides Viktor and Chris, you’re one of the most stylish men at our work.”

“That’s all Minako’s fault,” Yuuri explains, “she refused to let me be the slouch type while I was in college and it just stuck with me.”

“Bless her,” Yuuko replies, “a true visionary.”

Rolling his eyes at Yuuko’s teasing, Yuuri walks past her to look at some of the clothes hanging on the wall, idly browsing as his friend keeps pulling more and more out for what Yuuri anticipates to be an extended dressing room session.

“You should get some stuff for MX,” Yuuko comments somewhere behind him.

“I have plenty of clothes I can wear for the conference.”

“And for the launch party?”

“I’m…sure I have something that will work,” Yuuri hedges.

A hand drops on his shoulder and forces him to turn around and face Yuuko, who doesn’t look amused by his response. “We’re getting you outfits for MX and the launch party. Let me finish up here and we’ll find a store more your style.”

With a rueful grin, Yuuri says, “I don’t have a choice about this, do I?”

“Nope.”

Raising his hands up in defeat, Yuuri offers to take some of the clothes weighing down Yuuko’s arm as he waits for her to finish browsing. As Yuuko makes her way through the store, she says, “I heard Phichit is coming with you to the conference.”

With a sigh of resignation, Yuuri mumbles, “I’m pretty sure everyone has heard about that by now.”

Yuuko flashes a grin at him over her shoulder. “Nothing moves faster than workplace gossip, especially gossip about our resident recluse.”

“If I’m so reclusive I guess I should go home and leave you to shop by yourself.”

“Joking! Totally joking!” Yuuko rushes to say, grabbing Yuuri by the arm and tugging him so he’s plastered by her side. “Don’t leave me, it’s more fun to shop with company.” When Yuuri makes no immediate movements to pull out of her grip, Yuuko lightens her hold just enough for him to feel the circulation in his arm as she continues browsing the clothes. “It was a little surprising to hear he was coming since he doesn’t game at all.”

Glancing away from his friend to try and mask his blush, Yuuri mumbles, “He’s coming as support, so hopefully I won’t be as anxious about the whole ordeal.”

“Do you feel better? Knowing that he’ll be there?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Phichit really is a sweetheart. Please tell me you have plans to actually ask him out soon.”

Yuuri frowns. “Actually ask him out?”

“Making him your real boyfriend instead of a pretend one. Taking him out to a dinner that doesn’t involve fries dripping in grease and your tipsy coworkers.”

Slipping his arm free of her hold, Yuuri stumbles back a step to stare at the back of Yuuko’s head. “You knew?”

“Just the past week,” Yuuko confirms, turning so she can quirk an eyebrow at him. “How do you think Phichit got to your place without explaining why he didn’t have his boyfriend’s address? I assumed he told you.”

Shaking his head, Yuuri casts his memory back to last week when Phichit arrived at his apartment. While the younger man mentioned getting his address from Yuuko he had brushed past any questions Yuuri had about it in favor of focusing on Yuuri’s hermit tendencies.

“It didn’t come up,” he finally says.

“Don’t be mad at him! I’m the one that dragged him out to coffee to talk about you, not that you gave me many options.”

After bringing him back from the realm of zombie worker-ant, Yuuri finds it unlikely he’ll be able to get mad at Phichit for several weeks (at least, if he ever manages to get mad at Phichit which he thinks would be difficult to do).

“I’m not upset about it.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Yuuko perks back up and starts toward the dressing rooms. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though. When are you going to ask him out?”

Steeling himself to try and steer Yuuko safely away from this particular line of conversation (one that Mari has been asking every time they’ve talked since he ever mentioned Phichit and that Minako occasionally texts him about), Yuuri says, “I’m not-”

Yuuko cuts him off, shuffling through her clothing options to pick items to take into the dressing room. “You’re both clearly into each other.”

“Yuuko, it’s not like-” Yuuri’s prepared deflection screeches to a halt when he fully processes her words. “Wait, what?”

“You’ve been bringing Phichit around for a couple months now and you’re not the best liar. If there wasn’t any kind of chemistry between you two someone might have figured out you were pretending. It’s obvious you both like each other.”

Cheeks flushing, Yuuri shakes his head. “We don’t, that’s not….it’s not like that.”

She eyes him doubtfully for several long moments before shrugging and pushing the rest of her clothing into his arms. “Fine, if that’s what you say, but trust me when I say Phichit is into you. When you figure out whatever is going on with your emotions, get a move on it.”

Yuuko is stepping into a dressing room before Yuuri can gather his thoughts well enough to form a reply. He stares at the door she disappeared into without seeing it, playing her words over and over again in his head, cautiously toying with the idea that maybe Yuuko is right, that there’s a possibility Phichit is actually interested in him.

It’s not a thought Yuuri dared to entertain before—the less he spends thinking about Phichit when they’re not around each other the less often he has to ignore the slight swoop his stomach does every time he remembers the younger man’s smile. However, hearing someone else say it out loud somehow makes the possibility tangible in a way it never was before.

His phone vibrates and Yuuri shifts the clothes in his arms around enough to pull it out of his pocket and look at the screen.

_[11:25] Minako-sensei_   
_ 2193840_mp4_

Curious, Yuuri taps the file and waits as the video downloads. When he is able to open it, Yuuri’s eyes widen at the thumbnail: he recognizes Minako’s studio instantly and Phichit in simple dance gear standing in the middle of the practice room floor.

Turning the volume on as low as he can, Yuuri presses play.

It’s a routine Yuuri has never seen before, set to a song he’s never heard Phichit mention working on choreography for. In fact, if Yuuri couldn’t clearly see Phichit’s face and recognize the dance slippers he just purchased for Phichit, Yuuri might have thought Minako had sent him an old video. There is something in the choreography that feels completely different from anything Yuuri has seen Phichit dance to and there are elements he knows Phichit can do in more advanced iterations. It makes him think Phichit is revisiting an old routine.

Yuuri can see why he would want to do that. There’s an essence of joy in each movement, in each second of choreography, that feels so much more light-hearted, less pressured, than what Yuuri is used to seeing from him. He remembers Phichit saying once that more dramatic music was harder for him to dance to, that he missed dancing light-hearted routines.

That’s exactly what this looks like and it makes Yuuri smile as he watches Phichit leap into the air.

Even early in the morning, hair unstyled and dressed in plain clothes, Phichit is mesmerizing to watch.

Stepping into a turn, Phichit makes eye contact with the camera, brows ruffling for a moment—as if he hadn’t known Minako was going to film—before the expression melts away into a beaming grin and he winks at the camera, looking away just as his torso turns in the opposite direction.

It makes Yuuri’s breath catch and he rewinds the video, heart stuck in his throat in anticipation of the single split-second of eye contact, smile, and wink. Then, he rewinds it again, the noise of the busy shop around him completely fading away as he loses himself in the video, in the dance, in the man kind-hearted enough to hear out Yuuri’s original desperate plea without judging him, who plays pretend at dating him but is genuine in each second of friendship.

The pile of clothes in his arms makes it impossible for Yuuri to bring his other hand up to clutch at his chest, but his fingers itch to do so, his chest aches to the point of needing some sort of relief.

“ _Oh_.” The word leaves his mouth softly, half-lost in a gasp as he finally puts a name to what he is feeling, to what he has been ignoring for weeks now.

He likes Phichit.

No, that’s too simplistic. It doesn’t cover the way Yuuri had felt almost unbearably warm throughout his entire being when he woke up with Phichit’s head on his chest. It doesn’t cover the fun he’d had while dancing salsa with the drunk man, cheeks aching from smiling too much. It doesn’t cover the awe he’d felt while watching Phichit dance, the awe he feels every time he watches Phichit dance, from major showcase to a cell phone camera video.

Fingers snap in front of him, startling Yuuri out of his thoughts, and he tears his gaze away from the video to look up at Yuuko.

Smiling ruefully, she says, “You’ve got it bad, Yuuri.”

Closing his eyes, trying to fortify himself in the face of the facts, Yuuri mumbles, “I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I…don’t know?”

The bundle of clothes gets lifted out of Yuuri’s arms and he blinks his eyes open to meet Yuuko’s sympathetic gaze. “I’m going to go pay for these and then let’s find a place that gives massages, just so that we can unwind a bit.”

Watching her make her way to the check-out desk, Yuuri feels a small smile pull on his lips: Yuuko is a good friend and a massage sounds like it might just help him relax enough to prevent any kind of panic over the acknowledgment that he doesn’t want Phichit to pretend to be his boyfriend anymore—he wants Phichit to actually be his boyfriend.

But what does Phichit want?

Letting out a soft sigh, Yuuri shoves the question away to puzzle through at a time when he’s not in public and can hide his face in his pillows.

He’ll deal with that later.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit and Yuuri head to Monsoon Expo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So......it's been a minute since my last update and part of that is because I decided it really is time to wrap this story up and put our hopelessly oblivious boys out of their misery. On that note, I went ahead and wrote out the rest of the story and will be updating the final two chapters this weekend!

Phichit really knows close to nothing about video games and most of what he does know he has learned from Yuuri over the course of the time they’ve known each other. However, he doesn’t need to know anything at video games to know that Yuuri is an expert at playing them.

It took him four days to break down, for the knowledge of Yuuri’s videos floating somewhere around the internet to pull him in with their swan song. Under the pretense of doing ‘research’ so he isn’t as clueless at the upcoming expo as he has every likelihood to be, Phichit had pulled out his laptop and searched the username he got from Viktor’s brother. Hundreds of results came up, and Phichit was temporarily taken aback at how massive the online video gaming community was, how many articles seemed to circle around Yuuri’s disappearance from competitive gaming, how many people are evidently invested in competitive gaming, and how many are interested in watching other people play games.

He starts with the competition videos, at first only able to find split-screens where none of the gamers were visible and you could only watch the game being played. Even without glancing at the screen names he can tell which one is Yuuri by how absolutely dominant the player is in-game. Some more digging helped him find videos of in-person tournaments where Yuuri played with a hat shadowing his features, a hoodie swathing his form, and his head downcast so that it’s almost impossible to recognize him. But Phichit does recognize him, can pick out the dancer’s walk that hasn’t quite been bred out of Yuuri’s body.

Considering that Phichit is most familiar with the Super Mario franchise out of any games at all, it doesn’t take him long to get bored of watching various screens of games he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t know the objectives for. At that point, he switches to the small collection of live streams that fans evidently grabbed from Yuuri’s deactivated streaming page and re-uploaded to the internet.

And that’s when Phichit gets hooked.

He’s unable to tear his eyes away from the screen and the look of concentration on Yuuri’s face, the determined fire in brown eyes, the way Yuuri absently nibbles on his bottom lip when something doesn’t go according to plan in the game. His eyes occasionally drop to Yuuri’s fingers, either moving unerringly across his keyboard or flying precisely over a controller.

It gets worse when Yuuri starts talking. He’s playing some kind of online game, other players speaking through his speakers to fill the noise in the room, and Yuuri seems to be leading the raid. At least, that’s what Phichit can gather from the confident way Yuuri gives instructions and the calmness in his tone as he adjusts his directions according to what happens on screen. And it’s really, really, hot.

Somehow, it manages to get even worse, when Yuuri pauses the game to answer some of the questions from the chat during his live stream, cheeks flushing when one commenter mentions that they never imagined the undefeated gamer to be so cute, stammering over his words when someone else asks about his goals of being a video game programmer.

Peering closely at the screen, Phichit thinks he makes out a college dorm room in the background, putting the Yuuri on the stream about the same age he is now. He wonders what that Yuuri’s reaction would have been if someone told him what he would go on to do in just the next few of years.

Listening to the younger Yuuri talk about his goals, knowing how much he has been able to accomplish since then, makes a small surge of pride curl in Phichit’s gut. Just the thought of Yuuri at the conference, unveiling how hard he has worked to help launch the game, and then Phichit getting to _be there_ when the game actually launches makes all the apprehension and nerves about the upcoming expo vanish.

Because Yuuri is living his dream, and Yuuri is kind and considerate and good and deserves to have this. And Yuuri deserves to brag about it too, even though it’s not something Phichit has ever seen Yuuri do; Yuuri should get the chance to savor his accomplishments and if that takes the form of explaining each minuscule technical detail that Phichit doesn’t understand in front of a crowd of gaming geeks, he’s excited to be able to be even the smallest bit of help.

Letting that thought, and the snippets of Yuuri’s streams that he absolutely does not download and occasionally pull up on his phone, carry him through the days until the convention, Phichit almost forgets why he was so apprehensive at all.

Luckily (or unluckily), his roommates (and sometimes he really hates them, even if he loves them), make sure he doesn’t forget.

“Alright, the circumstances are not ideal, it would be better if this wasn’t happening so far away-”

“Leo.”

“-and you’ve basically vetoed every suggestion we came up with in terms of figuring out how mutual your hopeless puppy love crush on him is-”

“Leo.”

Fist crashing on top of an open palm, Leo continues rambling, ignoring the increased exasperation in Phichit’s voice. “But this is our best chance, if you blow this, we probably won’t get another one.”

“We?” Phichit asks, rolling his eyes, “Leo, I know you’re living vicariously through me right now but seriously, I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“And Guang-Hong,” Phichit continues, cutting off the protest on the top of Leo’s lips, waiting for an affirmative hum from his other roommate. “Why are you rubbing my shoulders?”

Guang-Hong shifts so Phichit can just barely see him out of his peripheral vision, confusion flickering on Guang-Hong’s features. “You looked really tense, doesn’t this help?”

“I’m fine guys,” Phichit says, stepping out of Guang-Hong’s grip and across the room, hands up in a placating gesture. “It’s just three days and he’ll be working for almost half of it. I’ll probably end up working on school stuff more than anything else.”

“Three days pretending to date the guy you have a crush on without break,” Seung-gil points out from his place peeking between the blinds of the window.

Phichit sighs, running his hand through his hair. It’s difficult to convince his friends that there isn’t anything to worry about when he has been struggling with the exact same concerns ever since agreeing to this. After a moment, he says, “If I get desperate I’ll find Yuuko, she knows the truth, I’ll be fine.”

“I’d almost believe you if you said that with any kind of confidence,” Leo comments, voice dry.

Opening his mouth to continue his reassurances, Phichit’s words die in his throat when Seung-gil comments, “He’s here.” A pause. “That’s a nice car.”

Without waiting for whatever embarrassing things his friends might have in mind, Phichit picks up his bag and rushes toward the door. “Okay, I’ll be back early on Monday, don’t wait up.”

He barely hears Guang-Hong’s call of “Good luck!” before the door swings shut behind him and he is rushing down the steps, not entirely sure his roommates will be able to resist the chance to fish for information out of Yuuri if he lingers for too long. When he gets to Yuuri, he’s cramming his bag in the back seat before Yuuri can so much as get out of the car and sliding into the passenger’s seat in the next second.

“Let’s go,” Phichit huffs out.

“In a rush? Check-in isn’t until noon,” Yuuri asks, sounding amused.

Closing his eyes, Phichit mumbles, “Trust me, we don’t want to hang around and start getting interrogated by my roommates.”

That pulls a laugh out of Yuuri and the car rolls forward, pulling away from the apartments. “You never did tell me how you handled them when they showed up that first time.”

At the mention, Phichit frowns, blinking his eyes open again. It feels like it has been ages since the first time he played boyfriend for Yuuri at trivia night. It _has_ been months, but he almost feels like he has known Yuuri for years. He can picture himself knowing Yuuri for years if he somehow manages not to screw up so royally this coming weekend that Yuuri never wants anything to do with him ever again.

Focusing on the conversation, Phichit says, “They took it pretty well once I managed to get them to stop being offended that I kept you a secret and explained that we aren’t really dating.”

Yuuri makes a noise that sounds questioning, and Phichit doesn’t dwell on the fact that he understands exactly what Yuuri wants to ask without Yuuri having to actually form the words. Letting his eyes flutter back shut, he shrugs, “Mila is nosy and was asking about you-” he doesn’t add the detail of Mila asking after his ‘hot guy’ and Phichit doing nothing to correct her, “-the guys played along before I could correct her so they’re really the only ones who know about you who also know we’re not dating.”

“Does it bother you?” Yuuri asks, voice soft.

At the odd tone, Phichit glances at Yuuri, taking in the way his jaw is slightly tight, as if waiting for some sort of complaint from Phichit. “My friends thinking we’re dating?”

A slight shrug, “If everyone you know on campus thinks you’re dating me it must be difficult to find an actual date.”

“I’m not looking for someone else to date.”

Yuuri glances at him, just daring to take his eyes off the road for a split-second, a mixture of curiosity and surprise in his gaze that in turn leaves Phichit endlessly curious both about the line of questioning and Yuuri’s reaction. When Yuuri looks back at the road, there is a slight furrow in his forehead, brows drawing down so slightly it’s almost unnoticeable.

“You seem surprised,” Phichit comments when Yuuri doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“It’s just…the way you said it…” Yuuri says before trailing off with another little shrug.

The way he said it? Phichit replays his words, they’re certainly true, he’s not looking for anyone to date, especially not when he’s too busy pining after his fake boyfriend. It’s not like he explained all of that to Yuuri, or even that it was implied.

Clearly catching onto the fact that Phichit doesn’t get what Yuuri is saying, Yuuri continues, “You said someone ‘else’ to date. Like we’re…you know, dating for real?”

“Oh.” That’s all Phichit can really form his lips to say and even that is a challenge as he stares out the window and tries to pretend his cheeks don’t grow just a touch too hot. This is probably his chance to backpedal, to laugh it off as a slip of the tongue or to declare that he takes his fake boyfriends very seriously. Instead, he remembers how his roommates (as annoying as their meddling has been) pointed out that this is his best chance to test the waters with Yuuri.

Before the silence can border on awkward, Phichit throws caution to the wind and replies, voice lighthearted and attention still fixed out the window. “Why would I be looking for someone else to date when I have my pretend boyfriend to compare them to every step of the way? Seriously, no one would last more than a week stacked up against you, Yuuri.”

There’s a soft snort of amusement. “I doubt that.”

Tearing his gaze from the window, Phichit shoots an easy smile at Yuuri (even if it doesn’t feel easy with how quickly his heart is racing over this line of discussion). “I’m being serious. Even drunk me said as much so you know it has to be true.”

Yuuri shakes his head but doesn’t vocalize his disagreement again. Phichit notices, with no small amount of pleasure, that the tips of Yuuri’s ears are turning pink and he stocks it up as a step in the right direction. Perhaps, this weekend will be much less of the disaster he has been terrified of it turning into. Deciding to spare Yuuri any more teasing, he digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone, holding it up so Yuuri can see it out the corner of his eye, “Do you mind?”

 “Go ahead.”

Reaching for the auxiliary cord, Phichit plugs in his phone and flicks through his music library before resting on a road trip playlist he may or may not have made with this specific trip in mind. He presses play and shifts slightly, getting more comfortable in his seat as Yuuri pulls onto the highway.

Glancing over again, he briefly takes in Yuuri’s profile. Gaze running over the messy black hair and the blue of his glasses, taking in the way Yuuri’s eyes are just slightly narrowed in concentration as he merges into traffic.

Really, Yuuri is so pretty it’s actually not fair.

Shoving the thought aside, Phichit asks Yuuri about his week and lets the lull of routine conversation drown out the slight swoops his stomach makes every time he pulls a laugh from the other man.

This is going to be interesting.

 

* * *

 

They make the trip up to Anaheim in good time, the drive somehow made much more tolerable with Phichit’s comfortable chatter and his music playing in the background. Yuuri has never been the biggest fan of driving, there are too many things that can go wrong for his anxiety to shut up during any distance of travel, but he finds himself relaxing in Phichit’s presence and actually enjoying himself.

There’s something almost endlessly soothing about Phichit, about how easily he can fill any silence or how he can also recognize what kinds of silence don’t need to be disturbed. Unlike everyone else who has questioned Yuuri about the presentations he’ll be giving at the conference, Phichit’s questions don’t make his nerves spike, don’t make him feel the need to prove himself. Phichit’s questions are filled with genuine curiosity and the confidence that Yuuri will do great as if the whole reason Phichit is coming as a way to calm Yuuri’s anxiety has no indication of Yuuri being unable to do this.

Even when they make it to the hotel, pull their bags out of the car, and step around the workers who are rushing back and forth to prepare the keep the area functioning under the rush of conference attendees, Yuuri doesn’t feel himself tensing. Check-in is made much simpler because there is a table set aside with someone from the company handling the conference participants and the pair make their way over to it.

“Name please,” the speaker is someone Yuuri hasn’t met before, likely someone from the administrative end of the company.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he replies, passing over his ID.

The staffer glances at the card, nods to himself, and passes it back. While Yuuri pockets his wallet, the staffer is picking up passes, a packet, and quite a few handouts, rattling off instructions on when to report for his panels, how security will be handled, all things Yuuri has been informed in the days leading up to the conference but that he listens to anyway for the sake of making everything as smooth as possible.

“The hotel was booked out of rooms with double beds but we were told you would be fine with a single,” the staffer adds as he passes over the hotel keys, “especially since you brought your significant other with you.”

Yuuri blinks at the hotel keys, suspended in air between them. “I’m sorry what?”

“Your room is on the tenth floor, elevators are behind you and to your left.” The stream of information continues, the hotel keys pressed more insistently across the table. “Unless you have any questions? I need to continue check-in.”

Phichit, bless him, takes the keys with a smile and word of gratitude at the staffer before pulling a still slightly shocked Yuuri away from the table.

“I put in the request for a room with two beds as soon as you said you were willing to come,” Yuuri mutters, frowning over his shoulder at the check-in table. “You’d think someone would mention this before we got here.”

“It’s fine, Yuuri,” Phichit replies, “it’s just a bed. It’s not like we haven’t slept together on smaller things.”

At the memory of waking up to find himself tangled with Phichit on his couch, Yuuri just barely manages not to blush. It had been innocent, certainly not anything either of them had planned, and he wasn’t really sure if it was the close proximity or just something in their natures that caused them to end up sleeping almost on top of each other.

“You’re right,” he mumbles out loud, forcing a small smile when Phichit looks over at him.

It’s just three nights, he can manage that much without making a fool of himself or driving Phichit off. At least…he _should_ be able to manage that much but when it comes to Phichit he’s not feeling particularly optimistic.

Phichit, however, seems to have no qualms about the prospect of sharing a bed because he leads Yuuri to the elevators, presses the call button, and chatters about the information they had gotten from the staffer. Yuuri vaguely makes out the mention of a kick-off party and the question of how much security they really need for a gaming conference before they’re in the elevator and headed to the tenth floor. Now, Phichit is wondering if they have time to get something to eat before Yuuri has to prepare for his first panel this afternoon. Then, Phichit answers his own question by looking out the windows in the hallway of the hotel floor and seeing the growing line to get into the convention center across the street where the conference is already in full swing, saying that he doesn’t particularly feel like dealing with the crowds so soon after they arrived (something Yuuri can agree on).

The chatter comes to a halt when Phichit swipes his key in the lock and pushes open the door to their hotel room and finds, as mentioned, that there really is only one bed and not even a couch for one of them to offer to sleep on. Phichit’s eyes are fixed on the piece of furniture, his expression blank even if Yuuri thinks he might see a hint of a blush on Phichit’s cheeks.

The moment is there and gone, though, because Phichit shrugs and repeats, “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

And Yuuri’s not quite sure whether Phichit is trying to convince himself or Yuuri, but he merely nods in agreement. Stepping further into the room, he focuses on pulling out his clothes and hanging them in the small closet before opening his laptop to study before his presentation. In the background, he hears Phichit flick on the TV.

It’s just three days.

He can manage this.

 

* * *

 

If Phichit had thought the line to get into the conference was insane from a distance, it was nothing compared to how he felt riding on the back of a golf cart past the line that was constantly moving but somehow never getting smaller as Yuuri (and by extension himself) were brought around to a side entrance of the convention center.

“Is it always like this?” Phichit asks Yuuri as the cart drives through nearly empty corridors adjacent to the rumble of a large crowd.

“This is my first time coming since I started at Monsoon,” Yuuri replies, voice tight, “It wasn’t this big when I came as a student.”

Peering at the man next to him, Phichit takes note of how Yuuri’s face seems to have drained of all color and hums thoughtfully, reaching out and lacing Yuuri’s fingers with his own, squeezing gently. “Guess it’s good they're bringing us around the back. It's sort of like how they handle the president.” Phichit pauses, eyes widening slightly as an impish grin curls on his lips at the implications. “Holy shit, you're the president, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinks at nothing several times before a small confused frown tugs his mouth and he finally looks at Phichit, the statement evidently just enough to shock him out of his daze of nerves. “The president?’

Nodding enthusiastically, Phichit gestures to the security in the cart with him. “We've got a secret service escort, are being transported by a secret side entrance, have passes, a rigid schedule...you're the president.”

Yuuri stares at Phichit like he's grown a second head. It takes a little longer than normal for the reaction he’s expecting but Phichit waits, refusing to let his smile waver.

Then, Yuuri laughs. It's soft at first but grows rapidly, the older man throwing his head back as he laughs and laughs and Phichit's grin widens, unable to keep playing earnest in the face of this victory. He hasn't pulled so much as a genuine smile out of Yuuri since they got to the hotel, and this is so much more than a smile. Even their security is smiling slightly because Yuuri's full-bodied laugh is too infectious to guard against.

When Yuuri finally catches his breath, he shoots Phichit a bemused look, “I think that might have been the most ridiculous thing you've said to me yet.”

Dramatically widening his eyes, Phichit places a hand on his chest and musters the most offended look he can. “Yuuri, that is no way to talk about the First Husband.”

“Husband?” Yuuri repeats, eyes wrinkling in their outer corners the way Phichit covets. “I think you skipped a few steps there. Like, an engagement or, I don't know, maybe a wedding?”

“Well unless you're hiding some other devoted boyfriend somewhere, I'm the First...Lord?” Phichit frowns, “That sounds weird, can I just be the First Lady regardless?”

Shaking his head with another huff of laughter, Yuuri says, “I'm not entertaining this anymore, you're being absurd.”

“You should be used to this by now, and this is nowhere near the weirdest thing I've ever said to you.”

The golf cart slows to a stop and the event staffer charged with keeping Yuuri on time hops off the cart, glancing at her watch. “Here we are,” she says as the two men slide off the cart to fall into step behind her. “The greenroom is right through here. We have about twenty minutes until the presentation is due to start.” She opens the door and shoos them inside, “I'll be back here when the Q&A is over.” The door closes behind her before either man can say a word in reply.

With a shrug, Phichit turns away from the door to study Yuuri, not thrilled to see the smile wiped completely clean off of his face but pleased that Yuuri hasn’t managed to go completely pale (again) or worse…green.

Glancing around the room, Phichit takes note of how empty it feels, because Yuuri’s panel isn’t until tomorrow and this presentation is, evidently, a solo act. Mouth pressing into a thin line, Phichit tries not to think about how annoyed he is at whoever put the schedules together that put Yuuri’s solo presentation ahead of his group panel. Even if Yuuri wasn’t already nervous about public speaking, it was just common courtesy not to shove someone straight into the deep end, especially at an event like this.

And _this_ is familiar territory for Phichit. Even if they’re not in his city, and he had offered to do this instead of receiving a request from a client, and he isn’t even sure if Yuuri was planning to pay him to come because Phichit isn’t doing this as a job but as a friend, _this_ is his playing field.

Trailing further into the room, Phichit scans the selection of food laid out for snacking and lets out a low whistle, joking to try and pull Yuuri’s mind away from his nerves (even if just for five more minutes). “They’ve got a whole spread laid out and this massive room just for us…” he trails off as he turns around, taking in the (admittedly comfortable) greenroom. “Yuuri, I seriously think you became the president without telling me.”

Yuuri laughs, and it’s not as bright as the one before but it’s still enough to make Phichit’s chest ache just a little bit even if his smile doesn’t waver. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“And I know what you’re doing.”

Phichit tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Doing?” Yuuri gives him a sharp look that isn’t entirely convincing because of the amusement in his eyes but Phichit caves to it anyway. It wouldn’t be fair to expect Yuuri’s snark game to be 100% all the time. “Do you mean my job?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen just a fraction, the amusement leaving them just as the color of his cheeks fades and Phichit feels his own stomach drop, not quite sure what happened, why Yuuri seems so mortified with this joke. Rushing on he says, “As your friend. This is what friends do for each other! Right?” The last word, the question, is much less confident, almost an afterthought as Phichit tries not to panic at the possibility that he somehow might have just made this whole weekend hell for them both.

And when Yuuri lets out a rattling breath, Phichit’s brain finally catches up and he realizes where the miscommunication happened.

 _Idiot_.

Of course, that would make Yuuri think that Phichit was only here for a paycheck. For someone who prides himself on being able to get his ideas across both verbally and otherwise well, he sure did manage to fuck this one up.

He’s opening his mouth to apologize and explain better when Yuuri lets out a slight huff of laughter, shaking his head. “I don’t know who was more freaked out, me or you.”

Phichit winces, “I could have worded that so much better.”

“It’s fine, I jumped to conclusions.”

“Because I put my damn foot so far down my throat it’s a wonder I didn’t gag,” the reply leaves Phichit’s mouth before he can catch it and it stuns them both into silence.

Wonderful. Phichit can feel the blush creeping up his neck and to the tips of his ears. After months of managing not to make a complete fool of himself in front of Yuuri his mouth runs away with him the weekend he’s searching for any hint that Yuuri might like him to.

A sort of strangled noise tears him out of his thoughts and back into the present. Blinking out of his brief (but passionate) self-pity party, Phichit feels himself frown slightly as he stares at Yuuri, who has one hand covering his mouth and color returning to his face.

“Yuuri? Are you okay?” he asks, bewildered.

And oh…that’s a laugh.

Not just a laugh. Unable to keep his composure any longer, Yuuri’s laughter escapes past his hand and he drops it in defeat, waving at Phichit as if motioning that he’ll stop in a second even as tears gather in his eyes.

Well, since the threat of Yuuri cutting off all contact with Phichit or bombing his presentation because of a fight seems to have vanished, Phichit settles for quirking an expectant eyebrow and waiting for Yuuri to catch his breath.

Finally, Yuuri says, “I’ve never actually seen you like that.”

Phichit lets out an indignant puff of air, “I’m glad my moment of absolute terror was able to amuse you.”

A knock sounds on the side door and someone sticks their head in. “Mr. Katsuki? We’re ready to get you fitted and on stage.”

“I’ll be right out,” Yuuri replies, turning back to look at Phichit when the door closes again, a grateful smile on his face. “Thanks, I probably would have psyched myself out just waiting for those five minutes.”

“Go kick ass,” Phichit says, “I’ll meet you back here when you’re done.”

With a nod, Yuuri makes his way over to the side door and slips through. Phichit stares after him for a moment, thoughts racing almost as quickly as his heart was pounding.

He knows almost nothing about the video gaming industry.

What he knows he has picked up rapidly over the last several months knowing Yuuri. He’ll watch Yuuri’s presentation and probably comprehend about half of what is said (if that) but he’ll sit through the whole thing without wavering because he knows it will help Yuuri to know there is someone there rooting for him. And even though it hasn’t even started yet, Phichit thinks back to the videos of college Yuuri streaming while he played video games and wishing to be a game programmer one day and feels that surge of pride again.

Grinning, Phichit makes his way to the same door and slips into the backstage area. He only has to stand there looking confused for a second before someone is at his side, asking what he’s looking for (and probably trying to get him out of the way as quickly as possible). Explaining that he just wanted to find a seat to watch the presentation, Phichit is guided to the side of the stage and into the conference room.

It’s…rather crowded.

Not that Phichit was expecting the presentation to be a flop, mind you. It’s just, from what he heard from Yuuri, this had been a relatively last-minute addition to an event that is hosting nonstop panels and presentations along with a demo hall. But there aren’t many open seats left and Phichit briefly wonders if somehow those in attendance figured out who Yuuri was online, were just extremely invested in programming, or the game name itself was enough to draw the crowd.

Either way, he finds one of the few open seats and plops down, smiling at the guy next to him who is painted a smurf hue of blue and decked out in white war paint.

The guy doesn’t smile back, but Phichit doesn’t particularly mind.

Within a few minutes, someone is walking on the stage. The man starts off with a couple of jokes that Phichit doesn’t understand but, judging by the light laughter around the room, is something he would understand if he was here for himself and not as moral support. He introduces Yuuri as a team head for the programming in the game and Yuuri steps on stage to a spattering of gentle applause.

His glasses are gone, Phichit notices, frowning slightly.

Did Yuuri lose them? Unlikely.

Watching the way Yuuri crosses the stage, shoulders back, head held high, no one might have ever guessed how anxious Yuuri had been about the whole affair. When Yuuri reaches the center of the stage, he shakes the introducer’s hand with a grin and turns out to study the crowd.

As brown eyes slide right past him without even a flicker of recognition, Phichit thinks he gets it. Without his glasses, Yuuri doesn’t know exactly how many people are in the audience, probably won’t be able to tell if someone is frowning or seems bored as he talks. They all just blend together in a faceless crowd and…it’s pretty brilliant.

And then Yuuri launches into his presentation and Phichit is immediately hooked. Leaning forward slightly in his chair, he listens raptly as Yuuri dives through an explanation his job and the process for creating a game. Some of the technical terms slide over him while others he remembers from conversations with Yuuri’s coworkers. Every now and then, a clip plays on the screen behind Yuuri, renderings from the early stages of the game and moving on as it got more and more refined until an unreleased gameplay clip comes on. (Phichit knows it’s unreleased because of how excited the crowd gets before respectfully falling quiet as Yuuri keeps talking.)

Phichit has no idea how long the presentation has been going on for when the smurf warrior guy on his right starts whispering (none too quietly) to the person in front of him. Scowling slightly, Phichit drags a fraction of his attention away from Yuuri to figure out what the hell is so important to the two people who actually paid to see this presentation.

“-I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to tell,” that’s the person in the row ahead of them.

“I swear it’s him,” smurf warrior whispers (sort of) back, “I used to watch his live streams all the time.”

“Yeah, years ago. No one has seen him since that world tournament.”

There’s grudging respect in smurf warrior’s voice as he replies, “Can’t believe no one has beaten that damn record yet. It’s insane.”

Frowning thoughtfully, recalling one clip he watched that involved Yuuri not just destroying the competition but scoring so high that the commentators sounded like they were having apoplexies, Phichit leans over, “Sorry, but are you talking about Eros?”

Smurf warrior gives him a sideways glance but the person in the row ahead of them turns slightly and nods. “Yeah, he says that the presenter,” they pause to look at the program, “Yuuri? He says he looks like Eros. I don’t see it.”

Phichit shrugs, shifting back in his seat. “It has been a few years, obviously he got older and he almost never showed his face when he did competitions.”

Silence falls. Finally. Phichit can turn all of his focus back to Yuuri’s presentation and he does so gladly, trying to catch up with where Yuuri is in his talk.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and Phichit barely refrains from scowling as he turns back to smurf warrior who, for some reason, is suddenly feeling more friendly right when Phichit could not care if the guy ever spoke to him again.

“Are you saying you know for sure that he’s Eros?”

“Yes.”

“How can you even know that?”

Rolling his eyes, Phichit tugs out the pass that lists him as a presenter’s guest. “I came with him.”

Taking in the slightly awestruck look on smurf warrior’s face, Phichit doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as he turns his attention back to Yuuri’s presentation.

It’s over too soon, and the Q&A is mostly full of the technical language that Phichit is nowhere near fluent in. And then Yuuri is giving a slight bow and leaving the stage to markedly more enthusiastic applause.

Getting to his feet as soon as the doors open, preparing to slip backstage to meet Yuuri as promised, he catches another snippet of conversation from the gamers that had been seated nearby him. A group is huddled in a circle, smurf warrior in the center, frantically whispering to each other. He hears Yuuri’s old screen name and hesitates, studying them.

After a moment, he dismisses the group, shrugs, and continues around the side of the room. His pass gets him backstage and escorted to the green room where he barely waits for the door to close behind him before he’s hugging Yuuri.

“That was amazing!” he says, pulling back just far enough to speak, “I never would have guessed you were nervous at all. And your glasses were gone, did you have the whole thing memorized? Your eyesight is horrible, there’s no way you could see the powerpoint.”

And speaking of eyesight, Phichit finds himself torn between missing the way the glasses add a certain amount of charm to Yuuri’s presence and shamelessly enjoying the unfiltered view of Yuuri’s deep brown gaze. This close, he knows Yuuri can see him without trouble, his eyes sparkling with amusement (probably at Phichit’s excitability). The tension that had been almost unnoticeable this morning, and increasingly more so the closer they got to the presentation, is all but gone from Yuuri’s face and Phichit wants to see if the rest would disappear if he were to do something distracting, like say, kissing the small smile on Yuuri’s lips.

Someone clears their throat—thankfully jolting him out of the daydream—and Phichit drags his gaze away from Yuuri and the adorable blush flooding his cheeks to the no longer empty green room. He meets bright green eyes and a slight smirk.

“This was so touching, lovebirds reuniting after a mere hour apart,” Chris drawls from where he’s sprawled on one of the couches.

Rolling his eyes, Phichit replies, “Is it impossible for you to let a genuine moment just stand without making a joke about it?”

“If it’s a genuine moment concerning me, of course. For others,” he trails off with a thoughtful hum, “circumstantially. But by all means, don’t let me interrupt what looked to be the set up for a darling celebratory kiss.”

At those words, Phichit realizes he’s still firmly in Yuuri’s personal space, arms connected behind Yuuri’s neck, only far enough away to make comfortable eye contact. He also realizes Yuuri’s hands, which had wrapped around his waist to receive the hug, are now resting on Phichit’s hips and suddenly every place they’re touching is too hot.

Stepping back, Phichit goes for what he hopes is a sardonic expression. “I should have guessed voyeurism was your thing, Chris.”

Chris doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Darling, why ever would you think I just have one thing?”

The door opens, revealing the event staffer who escorted them to the green room, looking at her watch. “Alright, Yuuri, you’re set for the day. Do you want me to show you to the main hall to look around or do you want to head back to the hotel?”

“Hotel, please,” Yuuri says immediately before glancing at Phichit, “if that’s fine with you.”

“I’m just here to follow you around,” Phichit jokes, “hotel is great.”

 

* * *

 

_[group chat] operation: real boyfriend_

[17:35] Guang-Hong  
didn’t phichit say he would tell us when they got there???

[17:35] Leo  
he did  
he’s a liar 

[17:35] Seung-gil  
Or he never got there.

[17:36] Guang-Hong  
…………

[17:36] Leo  
…………  
ur sarcasm & dry wit does not work well in text format

[17:36] Seung-gil  
(゜-゜)  
Did we actually expect him to tell us when he got there?  
He’s always forgetting shit around Yuuri.

[17:37] Leo  
*swoons*  
ah, young love

[17:37] Guang-Hong  
they’re both older than you.

[17:37] Leo  
& u

[17:38] Guang-Hong  
i wasn’t the one saying it is ‘young love’

[17:38] Phichit  
shit  
i totally did forget to tell you guys  
sorry  
………we’re at the conference!

[17:39] Seung-gil  
Better five hours late than never, I guess.

[17:39] Guang-Hong  
how is it????

[17:39] Phichit  
big  
there are so many people here

[17:40] Seung-gil  
How was Yuuri’s presentation?

[17:40] Phichit  
AMAZING!!!!  
he killed it!  
and it was really interesting to see the work process  
it makes me kinda want to try the game

[17:41] Leo  
ah, young love

[17:41] Phichit  
………  
we’re both older than you?

[17:41] Guang-Hong  
ignore him  
what are you up to now?  
yuuri doesn’t have another thing until tomorrow, right?

[17:42] Phichit  
yeah  
we just crashed in the room for a bit  
then we got food  
so it’s back to crashing in the room

[17:42] Leo  
i take it back  
u’r both old af

[17:42] Phichit  
he’s here for work  
we can’t exactly get wasted or something  
besides, this bed is sooooo comfy  
I feel like I’m floating  
pure bliss

[17:43] Seung-gil  
How is it going with the operation?

[17:43] Phichit  
?????

[17:43] Guang-Hong  
Operation Real Boyfriend!  
any progress?

[17:44] Leo  
yes  
pls update us on ur progress agent chulanont

[17:44] Phichit  
i hope you can feel my eyes rolling at you

[17:44] Leo  
i’m used 2 it  
well?  
update!!!

[17:45] Phichit  
none  
we’ve been busy today  
he’s been busy anyways  
i’m more focused on being supportive than digging for answers

[17:45] Seung-gil  
You haven’t made any progress at all?

[17:45] Phichit  
shush  
just let me enjoy the weekend  
and this amazing bed  
so soft  
so big  
o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

[17:46] Guang-Hong  
lol

[17:46] Seung-gil  
Isn’t it the same size bed as the one you have here?

[17:46] Phichit  
????

[17:46] Seung-gil  
You said the bed was big  
But you were getting a standard room with two doubles, right?  
So it would be the same size you have here?

[17:47] Phichit  
ah  
right  
ummm……  
about that

[17:47] Leo  
r u 2 sharing a bed?????  
GET IT ‘CHIT

[17:47] Guang-Hong  
(๑°o°๑)

[17:48] Phichit  
guys please  
it’s not like that

[17:48] Seung-gil  
It never is with Yuuri, evidently.

[17:48] Leo  
again  
sarcasm is hard over text  
u’r lucky we all just kno u

[17:49] Phichit  
the hotel was overbooked with double beds  
so they put us in a room with a king  
probably bc we were last minute  
and we’re ‘dating’

[17:50] Guang-Hong  
this is the sort of thing you should include in your progress reports!!!

[17:50] Phichit  
progress reports? is this grade school?

[17:50] Leo  
this is an operation, agent  
and ur next mission…

[17:50] Guang-Hong  
should you choose to accept it…

[17:51] Seung-gil  
You’re both actually sleeping in it?  
No one is taking the couch or something?

[17:51] Leo  
…is 2 cuddle with ur fake bf

[17:52] Phichit  
there isn’t a couch, we’re both sleeping on the bed  
and shut up leo  
I’m leaving now  
yuuri wants my opinion on something  
later!

[17:52] Leo  
ofc run off @ yuuri’s call

[17:52] Phichit  
t(- n -)t


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of MX brings more excitement than Phichit and Yuuri were prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again. Hey y'all, thanks for the nice comments on yesterday's chapter, since it took me so long to get that one up it was a relief to see people are still reading this! Hope you enjoy!

Yuuri hasn’t slept this well in a while. That’s not to say that he has been sleeping poorly, but rather that his sleep has been just good enough to keep him functioning as well as he needs to in order to get his job done and be marginally sociable. The sort of bone-deep satisfaction that makes him both reluctant to roll out of bed but energized enough to handle his day has been hard to come by over the last couple months and, as Yuuri recognizes it now, he turns his head further into his pillow as if to block out the coming need to give up this rest.

Vaguely, he’s aware of the comforting presence in front of him, the pleasant warmth that accompanies the slightest bit of pressure from something he’s not awake enough to wonder about. It’s probably contributing to his reluctance to start the day, but he can’t dredge up enough will to care.

A soft noise of protest rumbles in his throat when the presence moves, shifting further away. The noise, however, makes it pause for just a moment before it returns to its previous place and Yuuri angles himself just slightly closer to it with a pleased sigh.

He drifts off again, dropping into what can’t be more than another hour of sleep before becoming aware of gentle pressure on his head, stroking through his hair with just enough force to be relaxing.

Not opening his eyes just yet, Yuuri mentally begins working through what he has to do once he is out of this sort of haze of semi-consciousness. His panel isn’t until two, and he remembers Phichit mentioning something about wanting to see what else was happening in the convention center.

And it’s just the brief acknowledgment of Phichit’s comment the previous day that wakes Yuuri much more suddenly than he would’ve liked as he remembers where he is, who is with him, and the fact that the warm presence he woke next to is definitely Phichit.

As if reading his mind, there’s a soft hum from in front of him while the fingers in his hair increase their pressure just lightly. “Relax, we still have hours before you need to be anywhere.”

They’re close enough that he can feel the words just as much as he can hear them, hot air brushing against his face.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri tries to will himself to relax back into the bed as he takes mental stock of the way their legs are tangled together under the covers, the way his arm is loosely curled around Phichit’s waist, and the fact that (even though he’s now clearly awake) Phichit hasn’t pulled back like he had tried to earlier.

Forcing his mouth to open, and hoping his vocal cords cooperate without too much trouble, Yuuri mumbles, “Are you comfortable? I’ll move.”

“Don’t you dare,” Phichit replies softly, amusement leaking into his tone. “I’m extremely comfortable. Did you sleep well?”

As if Phichit’s acceptance is some sort of spell, the tension melts from Yuuri’s body and lets out a soft noise of appreciation. “Yeah, I did. You?”

“Like a baby.”

“…so either you slept well or you woke up every two hours. Which is it?”

Phichit tugs on Yuuri’s hair, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make a point and Yuuri lets out a huff of laughter. By way of apology for his teasing, Yuuri runs his knuckles along Phichit’s spine, digging in just enough to soothe any tension he finds in an impromptu, one-handed, back massage. Phichit tenses, just for a second, and Yuuri also stops moving, his breath caught in his throat as he wonders if he overstepped some line.

The moment is gone as soon as it came, Phichit relaxing once again as he resumes running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Cautiously, Yuuri also lets his hand continue, “I slept well, and you know that’s what I meant you’re just being a smart ass.”

He replies with a little half-shrug but he gives a small smile and lets the sleepy silence return to the room, his fingers tracing designs on Phichit’s back, over the younger man’s shirt; occasionally his hand stills when he finds a knot and Yuuri carefully massages it away before moving on. Phichit lets out soft sighs each time Yuuri does that, the fingers in Yuuri’s hair curving so Phichit’s nails lightly trace his scalp in a way that makes slight shivers run down Yuuri’s spine.

Yuuri doesn’t ever want to move, he wants to hold onto this moment for as long as he possibly can. Except it’s impossible to stay here and ignore the way his heart is pounding in his chest, reminding him (without mercy) just how much he likes Phichit and how much it will hurt when this weekend is over and this closeness inevitably leaves with it.

Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Yuuri gnaws on it as he thinks, not that it’s of any help to him with his thoughts swirling between the panel he has this afternoon and the fake relationship he wants to make real. And that’s a slippery slope, basically an invitation to let his anxiety in and twist his gut, making him feel nauseous at the thoughts of everything that can go wrong.

“Yuuri?” Phichit speaks up, he doesn’t know how long they’ve been quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Yuuri lies, mumbling into his pillow.

Phichit gives a considering hum and his hand moves, sliding around the back of Yuuri’s skull to the nape of his neck. It’s not as if they have never touched before—to the contrary, Phichit is the only person he knows in this city, save Minako, that he’s comfortable enough with for as many casual touches as Phichit seems to enjoy—but this feels different. It’s different in how Yuuri half thinks Phichit has some sort of power stored in the pads of his fingers because of how electric the touch feels as Phichit’s hand rests against the muscles in the hollow of Yuuri’s shoulder and kneads them.

Yuuri’s shoulder slowly drops from where it had risen nearly to his ears without his notice. Now that his stress has been pointed, Yuuri takes a deep breath and forces his other shoulder to drop. It gets him another hum from Phichit and then his hair is being carded through once again.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, voice soft, hand still tracing designs on Phichit’s back.

“Anytime.”

The casual response makes Yuuri shake his head slightly, “Not for that, well, thanks for that, but I was talking about coming to the conference with me, giving up your weekend for this just because I was freaking out over it.”

“Anytime,” Phichit repeats, but the flippant tone is gone and he sounds serious, prompting Yuuri to finally blink his eyes open.

It takes a few blinks for Phichit’s face to swim into focus and Yuuri’s heart lurches in his chest. Sunlight is filtering in from the window behind Yuuri, the soft light making Phichit’s skin glow. Black hair is splayed across Phichit’s forehead and it fans out underneath him on the pillow. More than that, there’s a sparkle in Phichit’s gaze that Yuuri can’t quite place (he quickly dismisses mischief, laughter, and amusement) but that makes his smile grow just a little bit more.

He looks beautiful.

Phichit’s eyes widen slightly, in surprise, and Yuuri realizes he said that out loud, some weird combination of not being fully awake yet and how safe and comfortable he feels. Before he can panic about it, a beaming smile stretches on his lips that pushes Yuuri’s panic away like some sort of shield.

“You’re always thanking me, you know,” Phichit comments as his fingers brush the side of Yuuri’s face, tucking a few strands of hair behind Yuuri’s ear, “about this, going with you to trivia night or game night or wherever. I’m not sure you get that I like it and your coworkers have become my friends too. Not to mention I enjoy being around you. So, thank you, for stumbling on my profile and turning out to be one of my closest friends.”

“Thanks for agreeing to get coffee with me in the first place,” Yuuri replies, voice slightly hoarse as he soaks in the blinding expression on Phichit’s face. He’s sure he’s blushing, his cheeks are warm and his heartbeat is almost deafening. The hand on Phichit’s back has stilled, clutching slightly onto the material of Phichit’s shirt as if needing an anchor.

Grey eyes flick between Yuuri’s as if trying to find something hidden in their depths. Yuuri doesn’t know what Phichit is looking for, much less care to know just how obvious his face is showing his feelings.

Eventually, Phichit’s gives a wistful sigh as he flops onto his back, “Coffee sounds wonderful right now.”

“Want to go get breakfast? There was a cafe close by that looked good,” Yuuri offers. “My treat.”

“You’re too good to me, Yuuri.”

“No, I’m not.”

Phichit laughs and sits up, his hand leaving Yuuri for the first time since Yuuri woke up to run through his own hair. “If you insist, I suppose I can bear to let you buy me food.”

That pulls a snort from Yuuri and he sits up himself, grabbing his glasses and glancing at the time on his phone. “It should be past morning rush and we’ll have plenty of time before the panel to look around if you still want to.”

A grin is flashed at him before Phichit is moving, one hand resting gently on Yuuri’s shoulder to support him as he leans over and brushes his lips against Yuuri’s cheek. “Thanks, Yuuri.”

And then Phichit is gone, sliding off the bed, grabbing his suitcase, and slipping into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Yuuri blinks after him, eyes wide, one hand rising to rub the spot where he can still feel Phichit’s kiss.

 

* * *

 

It takes approximately fifteen minutes inside the exhibition hall for Phichit to draft mental apologies to every gamer he’s ever met for having been skeptical about the entire idea of a gaming convention being fun. He only recognizes a quarter of the titles, cosplays, and characters he sees but Phichit is nearly bouncing with excitement because there is so much to see and to try and Yuuri’s pass gets them past massively long lines with ease.

“This is insane,” Phichit says, for what is probably somewhere near the twentieth time.

And, just like every other time he said it, Yuuri shoots him a look that is a combination of bemusement, exasperation, and fondness. “I’m still mildly offended that you were under the impression that this would be…what were you expecting exactly?”

“Something smaller, for one,” Phichit replies, taking in the mass of bodies and the sheer number of exhibitions. “Much smaller. Also, more exclusive, like everyone would know I’m not meant to be here. But I recognize more than I anticipated.”

“If you hadn’t managed to pick up a couple of things after hanging out with a group of game creators, I would be concerned.”

Phichit pauses his gaping to shoot a falsely stern look at Yuuri, “Don’t mock me.”

“I would never.”

That pulls a snort from him and he turns back to study the convention again, trying to decide where he wants to go next. Across the room, he sees a stand that’s a bright blue, smurf blue, in fact. Maybe it will explain who that guy was dressed up as during Yuuri’s presentation.

Mind made up, Phichit grabs Yuuri’s hand, linking their fingers together more out of muscle memory than anything else. He has spent the last thirty minutes dragging Yuuri from stall to stall, both men keeping hold of each other so they didn’t get separated in the crowd. Yuuri rolls with the sudden pull forward, laughing slightly as he squeezes Phichit’s hand slightly and falls into step with him.

It’s slow going due to them both getting distracted on their way across the room. Yuuri stops to look at games he either wants to play or is interested in the coding for. At one point, Phichit’s sure Yuuri spends almost twenty minutes with the man working a table going back and forth in programming terms that sound increasingly like a foreign language to Phichit the longer the conversation goes. He still listens closely, a soft smile on his lips at how invested Yuuri is with his questions to the other programmer, eyes twinkling behind his glasses as he gestures with his free hand.

When they’re finally walking away, Yuuri gives him a slightly apologetic smile, “Sorry, that was probably kind of boring for you.”

Phichit shrugs, “I definitely didn’t understand half of what you said but I was fine. It’s fun to see you like that.”

“Like what?”

“With gaming, your programming, you’re really passionate about it and it’s fun to see.” Phichit taps his shoulder against Yuuri’s as he adds, “Especially compared to that worker ant zombie thing you had going on for a couple of weeks.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Why would I do that?” Phichit asks, grinning.

That earns an exasperated huff that is completely belied by the way the corners of Yuuri’s mouth quirk upwards in amusement. Changing the subject, Yuuri nods ahead to where the smurf display is now just feet away, “Why did you want to see this one?”

“Smurf warrior,” he replies, eyes roving over the booth.

“Smurf warrior? That guy?” Yuuri points at a character depicted on the top left corner of the banner. “You play this?”

Phichit peers at the character, grudgingly admitting to himself that the guy’s cosplay from yesterday was really accurate. “Yes, that guy. No, I don’t play. Didn’t I tell you about the person I sat next to during your presentation yesterday?” Yuuri shakes his head and Phichit frowns thoughtfully, “Huh. Well, he was dressed up as the smurf warrior and I was curious what it was from.”

Yuuri quirks an eyebrow, “You didn’t call him that to his face, did you?”

“No,” the word gets drawn out, Phichit flicking his gaze between the booth and Yuuri, “what a missed opportunity.”

“Or a blessing in disguise.” Yuuri’s voice is dry and makes Phichit laugh slightly. His dry sense of humor was something that it took Phichit a while to get a handle on, but he relishes each time Yuuri’s snark makes an appearance because he knows it means Yuuri is comfortable with him.

Changing the subject, Phichit peers up at the table’s banner, “So, what kind of game is this one?”

“FPS, multi-player,” Yuuri replies without hesitation, idly running his eyes over the demo machines to their right advertising some sort of expansion pack. “It’s one of the older titles the company has, not making as much money anymore but it’s kept up for nostalgia mostly.”

“Do you have a copy?”

“Gathering dust somewhere. I’m picky when it comes to FPS games, it’s…not as smooth as it could be.”

Someone bumps into Phichit’s shoulder and stumbles, turning around to offer a quick apology. The words are barely out of their mouth before it’s falling open and their eyes widen. “Eros?”

Yuuri stiffens slightly beside Phichit and he glances at the older man, taking in the way the soft smile on his face slides away, replaced with apprehension as Yuuri eyes the stranger warily.

“That’s you, right?” the stranger asks, “Nate said you were that programmer at a talk yesterday. I never would’ve recognized you if someone hadn’t confirmed it was you. Can I get a picture? My friends are never going to believe this, they idolize you, man.”

“Uh, sure,” Yuuri mumbles, looking more like he’d rather disappear into thin air.

The stranger doesn’t seem to recognize his reluctance because a phone is being shoved in Phichit’s hand in the next breath as they ask Phichit to take the picture. With nothing to really protest, Phichit shrugs, lets go of Yuuri, and takes a step back, aiming the camera at the two and trying not to scowl at how Yuuri looks so comfortable with the stranger’s arm resting on his shoulder. They both smile, Phichit takes the photo and all but shoves the phone back into the stranger’s hand.

“What happened? You just vanished one day and everyone lost their minds. You could’ve gone pro, no question about it.” The stranger doesn’t seem interested in Yuuri’s answer, though, because he keeps chattering, “And you’re programming that VR game, right? It looks so sick, I already pre-ordered my copy, I’m dying to get my hands on it.”

Behind him, Phichit hears someone murmur, “Hey, is that Eros?” and feels something akin to dread turning in his stomach.

A reply of, “They look kind of similar, don’t they? Should we ask?”

“Someone on Reddit said he was here. I think it’s him.”

Before Phichit can even try to tug Yuuri away, a group of young women comes up to him, asking the question and getting an enthusiastic answer from the stranger still talking excitedly at Yuuri. There’s a gasp from one of the women and she reaches out, grabbing at Yuuri’s wrist and tugging as she adds her own thoughts to the conversation.

And where one person talking to another isn’t enough to draw attention, six of them clustered around Yuuri is drawing people’s notice and Phichit can hear more whispers of Yuuri’s screen name as others start drifting closer, curiosity obvious on their faces.

Glancing around, Phichit catches sight of the closest security guard, hoping to get their attention without causing a fuss. They aren’t looking in his direction and Phichit scowls, glaring at the side of their head as if the force of his gaze can draw them to look at him.

Yuuri is looking more and more uncomfortable, his face pale and eyes wide as he tries to keep up with all the people talking to him, asking him questions, reaching out to shake his hand or clap him on the shoulder or take a picture with him. And as the group gets bigger and bigger, they draw more and more attention and Phichit lets out a frustrated noise at the fact that the security guard never looks at him.

He is paying vague attention to the speakers around Yuuri. One person comments how Yuuri has grown more attractive since he stopped streaming and Phichit promptly shoves down the brief flicker of jealousy as he turns his gaze away from the (useless) security guard to try and find a quick exit.

Phichit can tell the crowd is more than making Yuuri nervous, he thinks he can see Yuuri’s breath quickening, and they got pushed apart when Phichit took the first photo but Phichit is confident he knows Yuuri well enough at this point to recognize what might be the start of an anxiety attack.

“Idiot, he shouldn’t be walking around without a fucking hood on or something.”

The irritated tone is familiar, and Phichit glances over to meet the green eyes of Viktor’s younger brother. Yuri looks annoyed as he tosses his head behind him and to the left, Phichit follows the motion to see Viktor, waving where he stands in front of an opening in some curtains.

“Yuri, you’re a saint,” Phichit says, heartfelt.

Yuri scoffs, “Viktor just sent me to tell you. Can you get him out of that before it turns into a mob?”

Eying the crowd around Yuuri, Phichit nods. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks.”

The teen rolls his eyes and walks off, heading directly toward a security guard. While Yuri handles that, Phichit dives into the crowd, weaving through the circle of gamers jockeying for a chance to talk to and take pictures with Yuuri. When he reaches the center, Yuuri is being squeezed between two such gamers as they grin at a camera and Yuuri looks like he’s trying not to get sick.

“Sorry, folks,” Phichit says, voice amiable, “but we’ve got to get going.”

No one looks like they want to budge. One person as the nerve to say, “If you want a picture, wait your turn like everyone else.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Phichit reaches out and tugs Yuuri from their grip, not letting up on his pull until Yuuri is standing next to him. Slipping his arm around Yuuri’s waist, Phichit leans against him and glances up at Yuuri from underneath his eyelashes, “If we don’t get going you won’t get a chance to rest before the panel. I’d hate for you to be too exhausted to talk about your work on the game as much as you’d like to, babe.”

Yuuri blinks down at him, looking dazed, and Phichit turns a dry look at the person who spoke up. “Got a problem?”

They look like they just sucked a lemon but they shake their head. Disappointed murmurs sound all around them but Phichit doesn’t wait to see if the crowd will disperse on his own. Grabbing Yuuri’s hand, he tugs Yuuri through the gamers and moves quickly across the room, weaving past other sight-seers until they reach Viktor and Viktor is waving them through the curtain into a sort of backstage area of the conference.

“Are you two alright?” Viktor asks as soon as the curtain closes behind him.

Phichit ignores him for a moment, turning to look at Yuuri and search the other man’s gaze. Squeezing Yuuri’s hand gently, he murmurs, “Do you want to head up to the room?”

It takes a few moments for his words to register, but when they do, Yuuri shakes his head and lets out a rattling breath. “I just need to sit down for a second.” He glances around before nodding at a plastic chair a couple feet away, “I’ll be right there, just…give me a bit.”

“Of course.” Phichit lets go and watches Yuuri walk over to the chair, waiting until he’s fairly sure Yuuri is out of earshot before rounding on Viktor, “What the fuck was that?”

Viktor blinks, “I’m sorry?”

“Not you, you were brilliant,” he says, waving a hand as if it absolves Viktor of any sort of culpability for the mess they just escaped, “thanks for sending Yuri over. But security? What were they doing? Daydreaming? That could’ve gotten out of control fast.”

“I know,” Viktor is frowning, glancing toward where they came as if he can see the security guards responsible, “they’re supposed to step in to prevent crowds like that.”

“Well, there was one guard close to us that spent the entire time looking in the opposite direction. If security can only manage to scan one section of the room for twenty minutes they’re bad at their job.”

“Do you have a description of the guard?”

Phichit rattles off a description with as much accuracy as he can before adding, “We’re probably just going to lie low until his panel, but I’m not comfortable going through the public areas, word about Yuuri will probably be spread pretty far by then.”

A considering look is in Viktor’s eyes as he scans Phichit’s face before glancing over Phichit’s shoulder to where Yuuri is sitting. “Why were they swarming you?”

That brings Phichit’s anger to a screeching halt and he blinks up at Viktor. “Are you serious?” Viktor shrugs. “Huh, I thought your brother would have told you, that’s how I found out. Yuuri used to be a competitive gamer and did live streams. Evidently, his skills are kind of legendary.”

Blue eyes widen, “Really? That explains it then, I’ll let security know, they’ll probably want to add someone to your escort for the panel.”

Phichit nods, “Great. Can we get a guide through here and to the hotel?”

“Give me a second,” Viktor replies, pulling out his cell phone and firing off a text as he adds, almost absently, “It’s good you were here, Phichit. I’m glad he has you, that would’ve been much worse if he was by himself.”

With a snort, Phichit points out, “If he was by himself he probably wouldn’t have been in the exhibition hall in the first place.”

Viktor grins wryly, “True. Someone is heading over to show you two out, see you later.”

Phichit waves the game designer away before turning and making his way to where Yuuri is seated. Yuuri’s eyes are closed, his head resting against the wall behind him, he is breathing slowly, deliberately trying to calm himself down, and Phichit feels another strong rush of disdain for the security that did nothing to help them and for the strangers who didn’t care about Yuuri’s personal space.

Dropping to a crouch in front of Yuuri, Phichit reaches out, gently taking one of Yuuri’s hands in his. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri nods, his eyes blinking open and falling to meet Phichit’s gaze. “Yeah, it was just overwhelming. I didn’t even think people would still remember me, I wasn’t that special.”

At that, Phichit quirks an eyebrow. He’s used to Yuuri’s tendency to tragically undersell his skills, but this might be a new record for Yuuri. “People definitely still remember you. Viktor’s brother recognized you and mentioned that people still talk about you online.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows fly up, his eyes widening, “You know about that?”

With a shrug, Phichit admits, “Just recently, Yuri told me when he came to visit Minako’s studio. I may have watched a few videos that were still online. Yuuri, I don’t know much about gaming and even I could tell that you were, probably still are, insanely good. Do you really think people who spend so much of their lives on video games wouldn’t remember you? Evidently, some of your records are still standing.”

“Huh,” Yuuri says, glancing away, looking thoughtful.

Phichit lets him think, content to wait here until someone actually useful from security finds them. They sit in silence for several minutes, just listening to the rolling noise of the convention just on the other side of the curtains, hands clasped together comfortably.

Eventually, Yuuri looks back down at him with a smile, “Viktor was right, though, it would’ve been worse if you weren’t with me.”

Feeling his cheeks heat up slightly, Phichit asks, “You…heard that?”

Still smiling, Yuuri nods and gets to his feet, pulling Phichit up with him as security comes around the corner. Yuuri doesn’t look away, though, his eyes fixed on Phichit’s face and holding Phichit’s attention so thoroughly that an explosion could have gone off nearby without Phichit looking away.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Yuuri says, voice soft.

With a grin and a shrug, Phichit replies, “Happy to be here.”

Yuuri looks incredibly amused at that, but Phichit can’t pick apart why and Yuuri is looking away before he can study Yuuri’s expression further. It takes him a moment to realize Yuuri is talking softly to the security guards, explaining what happened and why, listening to their apology and plans to help prevent it for the rest of the weekend. Then, they’re off, following security through the side corridors of the convention center until they’re met by a golf cart that takes them across the street to the hotel.

They hold hands the whole time.

 

* * *

 

_[group chat] operation: real boyfriend_

[13:10] Leo  
agent chulanont  
come in agent chulanont

[13:11] Phichit  
…yes?

[13:11] Leo  
agent ji was requesting a status report

[13:12] Phichiwas he now?  
why doesn’t he ask me himself?  
@guang-hong ????

[13:12] Guang-Hong  
here!  
what’s up?  
……leo, really?

[13:13] Leo  
????

[13:13] Guang-Hong  
you were the one wanting to hear from ‘chit  
don’t drag my name into this

[13:14] Leo  
so u don’t want 2 know how it’s going?

[13:14] Guang-Hong  
that’s not what I said

[13:14] Leo  
it’s kinda what u said

[13:15] Phichit  
as much fun as it would be to watch you 2 go back and forth for an hour  
maybe we call timeout?

[13:15] Seung-gil  
Hey ‘Chit  
How’s the conference?

[13:16] Phichit  
(¬_¬)

[13:16] Guang-Hong  
???  
it sounded like it was going good yesterday

[13:16] Phichit  
Yuuri got swarmed today, it was kinda scary  
we’re both fine  
but still  
stupid security

[13:17] Leo  
y the swarm?  
is he famous??  
did we not know this????

[13:17] Phichit  
lol, video game nerd famous  
it’s a long story

[13:17] Leo  
ahhhh  
well?  
how goes ur mission?  
did u cuddle?????

[13:18] Phichit  
why do u feel the need to know everything going on?

[13:18] Seung-gil  
So, that’s a yes

[13:18] Guang-Hong  
(✿☉｡☉)

[13:18] Phichit  
how is that a yes????

[13:19] Seung-gil  
You’re trying to deflect, you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t cuddle.  
We’ve known you for over a year, we pick stuff up.

[13:19] Phichit  
…………  
fine  
yes  
we cuddled  
happy?

[13:19] Leo  
GET IT ‘CHIT

[13:20] Guang-Hong  
(ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

[13:20] Seung-gil  
He likes you, doesn’t he?

[13:21] Phichit  
he hasn’t said anything

[13:21] Guang-Hong  
…but?…..  
there’s a but somewhere in there

[13:21] Phichit  
but…I think he might? maybe?  
I hope he does

[13:21] Leo  
go 4 it  
u got this  
we’re cheering u on

[13:22] Phichit  
thanks guys  
………..I guess I’ll keep u updated

[13:22] Leo  
u better

[13:22] Seung-gil  
Please do so Leo doesn’t annoy us all

[13:23] Guang-Hong  
Good luck!!!!  
if he doesn’t like you back, he’s dumb af

[13:23] Leo  
^^^^^^^^^^^  
tru

[13:23] Seung-gil  
Yup

[13:23] Phichit  
lol you guys are the best  
later!

 

* * *

 

The crowd for the panel is much larger than the one for Yuuri’s presentation had been. When Phichit steps out from the backstage area, he hesitates on the edge of the room, eyes large as he takes in the teeming mass of bodies as people search for their seats. The space itself is easily twice as large as the one they had been in yesterday and Phichit highly doubts there will be a single seat left open judging by the queue he can see stretching out the door.

He knew the game that Yuuri has been working on was a big deal, but it’s one thing to know and another thing entirely to see.

Shaking his head slightly to clear it, Phichit makes his way along the front of the room to a small section of seats he had been told about backstage. ‘Reserved’ signs were set out for guests of the panel speakers and Phichit snags a seat near where he can see Yuuri’s name on a placard.

A hand taps on his shoulder and Phichit turns in his seat to smile at the woman sitting behind him.

She smiles back, “Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you were Phichit?”

Phichit blinks, “I am. Sorry, have we met before?”

Quickly, the woman shakes her head, “No, no we haven’t. I work on Yuuri’s programming team and I’ve heard people mention you once or twice. I wanted to introduce myself.” Holding out her hand she adds, “My name is Sara.”

Shaking the offered hand, he replies, “It’s nice to meet you. Yuuko is always telling me she’s going to drag you to trivia night one of these days.”

That pulls a laugh from Sara. “She tries, I admire her tenacity. It’s hard for me to worm out of family commitments for it though.”

Nodding, Phichit briefly considers what he had heard about Sara from Yuuko (who mostly brings up the other woman to lament the fact that there are so few women involved in the game’s design). He thinks he recalls something about a protective brother but decides to forgo mentioning it, opting instead to say, “Yuuri speaks highly of you. He says you’re really good.”

Sara practically beams at him, her teeth flashing brightly against her tan skin. “That means a lot, coming from him. Yuuri’s brilliant at what he does.”

“I know,” Phichit replies, then pauses briefly before correcting himself, “well, I don’t really know because it’s not my field of expertise but Yuuri’s really devoted to this and I know how much work he puts into it.”

A thoughtful look flashes through purple eyes, “I can see what the others mean when they talk about you.”

“Others?”

“Viktor, Chris, Yuuko, Takeshi,” Sara lists them off absently, looking at a point over Phichit’s shoulder as she says the names before shaking her head and refocusing on Phichit with another smile, “they say you’re really supportive, among other things.”

Trying not to look extremely flustered (and flattered) about what Sara said, Phichit quirks an eyebrow, “Well, now I’m curious.”

Sara laughs lightly, “All good things, I promise! I haven’t heard anyone say a bad word about you unless you count them being baffled how bad you are at video games.”

“It’s not my fault they don’t see button smashing as a proper tactic.”

“It’s not a proper tactic,” Sara shoots back without pause, making Phichit grin. For some reason, he gets the impression that she would get along well with Mila.

Rolling his eyes, Phichit says, “You’re all just game elitists.”

“Would you expect anything else from people who spend their lives making games?”

“Nope, not all.” Applause sounds around them and Phichit glances at the stage to see the panel’s host walking on stage. He murmurs a quick, “It was nice to meet you” to Sara, who echoes the sentiment, before shifting back in his seat to watch.

There are five people on the panel, including Yuuri. One of them is a writer for the game, another an artist, while the other two are executives in the company. This time, Phichit notes, Yuuri is still wearing his glasses, and brown eyes scan the crowd before falling on Phichit. Phichit grins and gives a slight wave and Yuuri smiles back before turning his attention to the emcee.

The panel is a lot of fun. The emcee is charismatic and engaging and all the members of the panel are visibly excited for the launch of the game the following day. Banter is exchanged between the panelists: the writer making an off-handed teasing comment about how their work is most instrumental to the process, to which both Yuuri and the artist reply that without them, it would be a story rather than a game. It leads to Yuuri describing a bit of the competitive nature between all the departments working on the game, drawing laughs from the crowd as he discusses the pointed rivalry between the programmers and designers. Having seen that many times first hand, Phichit has to cover his mouth to keep from giggling too much.

And then it’s time for questions.

“My question is for Yuuri,” Phichit turns in his seat to look where the microphone is set up for questions. “I was wondering how your experience as a gamer impacts your programming. Also, I was wondering if you had any plans to come back to competitive gaming.”

“Competitive gaming?” that was the artist, looking at Yuuri curiously.

Yuuri shrugs, looking a little sheepish, “It was something I did during college.”

The writer leaned around the artist to raise an eyebrow at Yuuri, “Were you any good?”

“I was decent.”

“You were the best!” All eyes turned back to the person at the microphone, who clears their throat hastily an added, “It’s true.”

Yuuri gives a wry smile, “Thank you. To answer your second question, I’m not planning to return to competitive gaming. Now, as to your first question, I think everyone on the panel can agree that in order to make a good game you need to have experience playing good games…” Yuuri launches into a quick spiel about how his experiences playing games influenced his approach to programming before leaning back from the microphone with another smile at the questioner.

Instead of being a one-off question, it starts the beginning of a pattern. While several of the questions get directed to the panel as a whole or one of the other members, a lot of the questions are directed to Yuuri. Phichit watches, with no small amount of amusement, as Yuuri gets more and more confused about why so many people have questions for him. Despite his confusion, Yuuri answers each question thoughtfully.

A hand taps Phichit’s shoulder and he glances back at Sara, who is leaning forward in her seat. Her voice is soft as she says, “I think some of these people want to steal your man, Phichit.”

Phichit resists the urge to scoff and shakes his head, “I’m willing to share him with his adoring fans, but they’re going about it wrong if they’re trying to steal him.”

“Oh?” Sara asks, grinning, “Confident, are we?”

“Confident that I know him much better than any of them do,” Phichit replies as the emcee begins wrapping up the panel.

Cheers pull them out of their soft conversation and Phichit joins in the applause as the panel gets to their feet, wave at the crowd, and file off the stage and toward the green room backstage. Phichit is on his own feet as soon as the stage is empty, “Will I see you at the launch party?”

Sara nods. “Will you tell Yuuri that I said good job? I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Waving goodbye to the programmer, Phichit makes his way through the crowd of people walking toward the exit and skirts the front of the room so that he can dip backstage with a flash of his pass.

When Phichit slips into the green room, still beaming at how well the panel went. The other panelists are inside, talking animatedly amongst themselves, but Phichit’s gaze immediately seeks out Yuuri. Now that everything is out of the way and went well, Yuuri looks much more relaxed, a broad smile of his own on his face as he talks.

Stepping further into the room is what brings Yuuri’s attention to him and Phichit is almost brought to a halt by the way Yuuri’s gaze scans his face thoughtfully. Phichit’s smile doesn’t falter even as Yuuri straightens, his posture becoming perfect the way it does under Minako’s watchful stare, as something akin to determination fills his face (the same expression Phichit remembers seeing on countless Eros live stream videos). Phichit barely has time to process the sudden change in demeanor before Yuuri is striding across the distance between them and a hand is wrapping around his wrist, pulling him through the room.

“Yuuri? Are we in a rush to get somewhere?” Phichit asks, voice lighthearted despite his confusion as Yuuri strides toward the door.

Someone else seems just as confused because Yuuri’s name is called just loud enough for the other man to turn and wave at the speaker, “I’ll catch up to you in a bit. See you later.”

Yuuri doesn’t wait for anyone to reply because in the next breath he is opening the door and pulling Phichit into the halls that allow them to travel through the convention center without stepping into the chaos of the conference. Personally, Phichit thinks he’d have a hard time trying to navigate his way around without a guide, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to have that hesitation because he keeps walking.

“Yuuri?” Phichit tries again, wondering if something is wrong even if he feels positive that isn’t the case. After all, if something was wrong Yuuri wouldn’t have been smiling and at ease in the moments before he noticed Phichit in the green room and while Yuuri’s back is ramrod straight Phichit doesn’t feel any kind of tension from the programmer.

“One second,” Yuuri replies, tossing a small smile over his shoulder that promptly shuts Phichit up because that smile (much like the blush he had been graced with when they first met) is an overpowered negotiation tool and Phichit has yet to form a defense against it. “I want to find somewhere private.”

And that sets another dozen questions spinning through Phichit’s mind but he doesn’t ask any of them, letting himself be dragged along by Yuuri (only vaguely wondering if they’ll find their way back once Yuuri is done with…whatever is going on). He doesn’t know how much time has passed before Yuuri stops, opens a door, and pulls Phichit inside, letting go of Phichit so he can turn and close the door.

Phichit blinks when he recognizes the green room from yesterday. It feels so much smaller after having been in the large one and it’s clear that it has no more use for today because the snacks are gone, leaving behind only the furniture and a few water bottles.

After taking in the room for a second, Phichit turns to face Yuuri. Even though he wants to ask what that was about, he puts it on hold to tell Yuuri what he had been planning to say originally. “You were brilliant up there, Yuuri.”

That earns him another smile, “Thanks, Phichit. It would’ve been a lot harder if you hadn’t come all the way here to support me.”

Phichit shrugs, “That’s what friends are for.”

“I know. You’re a great friend. Everything ended up going better than I hoped so I thought maybe one other thing would too,” Yuuri replies and hesitates, dropping Phichit’s gaze as he takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something.

Almost subconsciously, Phichit steps forward, tilting his head as he tries to understand what is making Yuuri so nervous out of nowhere, especially now that Yuuri’s done with his work at the conference. Reaching out, Phichit picks up Yuuri’s hand, their fingers lacing together easily, with comfortable familiarity after how much hand-holding they’ve done over the last couple of days. He gives Yuuri a gentle squeeze and waits.

Yuuri squeezes back, brows furrowing slightly before his head flies back up and the determination is once again clear on his face. “I was wondering, I guess hoping really, that you might….that maybe we could do this for real?”

It feels like time has stopped. Phichit isn’t entirely sure he’s breathing as he wracks his brain, trying to find any other explanation for Yuuri’s words other than the one he has been desperately hoping to hear for a while. Even if he told his roommates that there might be a chance Yuuri likes him back, Phichit has been going out of his way to avoid thinking about it too much or too hard, trying not to get his hopes up, just as he tries to do now.

“Do what for real?” he asks, too stunned to even be embarrassed at how breathless the question comes out.

Yuuri bites his bottom lip, eyes searching Phichit’s face for something before he replies, “Dating. Me, specifically. I…we’ve been pretending to be boyfriends for months but I don’t want it to be pretend anymore. I’d like to date you for real, if you’re interested.”

His eyes widen and Phichit stares at Yuuri, wondering if he’s hearing things now, if his crush has taken him off the deep end to the point that he’s just imagining this whole exchange. Maybe he somehow dozed off during the panel and this is a dream?

Except, Yuuri is shifting slightly on his feet, a blush tinging his cheeks as he waits, and suddenly Phichit realizes this isn’t a dream, that this is really happening, and that he needs to say something, anything.

“Can I kiss you?” the question leaves his mouth without his permission.

Yuuri blinks at him, surprise evident on his face before it fades away to the most dazzling smile Phichit thinks he has ever seen. “Only if that means you’re saying yes to dating me for real.”

“Yes, yes I am.” Phichit can’t get his response out fast enough, unable and unwilling to stop his own smile from stretching across his face as he tugs slightly at their joined hands until Yuuri is stepping into his personal space and he’s able to lean forward and brush his lips against Yuuri’s. It’s a gentle kiss, quick and chaste as if meant to get them both used to this new facet of their relationship.

When Phichit pulls back, he only gets far enough to blink open his eyes and take in the pleased look on Yuuri’s face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits.

Yuuri laughs softly, a fond expression filling his face, “Me too.”

“Then you wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again?”

“I suppose if my boyfriend wants to kiss me again, I might be amenable,” Yuuri teases.

Phichit is pressing back into another kiss almost before the words are out of Yuuri’s mouth, his free hand reaching up to curl around the back of Yuuri’s neck, fingers carding through soft hair as Yuuri kisses him back. Yuuri’s arm wraps around Phichit’s waist, pulling Phichit flush against Yuuri’s chest as their lips move slowly, carefully, relishing each second of contact.

He’s sure Yuuri must be able to hear, much less feel, the way his heart is pounding rapidly in his chest but, for once, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Yuuri can tell because he doesn’t have to hide his crush anymore, because he isn’t kissing his friend to keep up a ruse, he’s kissing his boyfriend because they both want to do this.

The word makes Phichit feel lightheaded with joy.

Yuuri is his boyfriend.

Breaking away from the kiss, Phichit lets out a laugh, taking in the quirk of Yuuri’s eyebrow and answering the unspoken question, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Yuuri grins, “I am.”

“Finally,” Phichit says and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F I N A L L Y. Final chapter tomorrow!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small epilogue: Yuuri and Phichit take advantage of their last day in Anaheim.

_[group chat] operation: real boyfriend_  

[16:23] Phichit  
I’m only coming in here for a sec  
bc I know you’re going to blow up my phone later for details  
Yuuri asked me to be his boyfriend  
we’re dating for real now

_[16:24] leo has changed the chat name to phichuuri is real_

[16:24] Phichit  
leo….  
did you….  
give us a ship name???

[16:24] Leo  
YOUNG LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL  
also the ship name was seung-gil’s brilliance  
i just changed the chat name

[16:24] Phichit  
@seung-gil really?

[16:25] Seung-gil  
Really

[16:25] Guang-Hong  
CONGRATS  
☆~~ヾ(>▽<)ﾉ｡･☆  
FINALLY

[16:26] Leo  
when u come back u’r required 2 give us all the details  
i want a play by play

[16:26] Phichit  
lol yes, sir  
gtg now, we’re going out to eat

[16:27] Guang-Hong  
*gasp* a real date??? at last?

[16:27] Phichit  
don’t mock me

[16:27] Guang-Hong  
never

[16:28] Seung-gil  
Have fun!

 

* * *

 

 _[group message] Mari, Minako-Sensei, Yuuri_  

[16:23] Yuuri  
I asked Phichit out, he said yes.  
Please stop teasing me about him now

[16:23] Mari  
lol now we have to tease you harder

[16:23] Yuuri  
nee-san….please 

[16:24] Mari  
I don’t make the rules, I just follow them  
It’s in the big sister guidebook

[16:24] Yuuri  
that’s not a real thing

[16:24] Minako-sensei  
Well, finally. I was worried I’d have to lock you both in a practice room

[16:25] Yuuri  
you wouldn’t have done that

[16:25] Mari  
yes, she would have

[16:25] Minako-sensei  
I definitely would have

[16:26] Yuuri  
(¬､¬)  
fine okay, keep teasing me  
at least phichit will be on my side

[16:26] Mari  
ahh, young love

[16:26] Yuuri  
We’re going out now, bye  
Don’t tell mom and dad yet, I’ll tell them

[16:27] Mari  
Will you include the bit about him being your fake bf first or?

[16:27] Yuuri  
I regret telling you anything

 

* * *

 

For their last full day at the conference, Phichit and Yuuri don’t bother to step foot inside the convention center until it is time for the launch party. While there are panels and events still happening, Phichit claims his curiosity waned after their adventure in the exhibition hall the previous day, and even though there are a few panels that Yuuri wouldn’t mind checking out, he can feel exhaustion creeping up on him, promising to make the coming week at work a challenge.

Besides, why would he give up the chance to spend a lazy day with his boyfriend?

They take advantage of the calm and their empty schedule, staying in bed until nearly noon, Phichit’s head resting on Yuuri’s chest as they both scroll through their phones, Yuuri navigating with one hand while the other cards through soft black hair. The silence is as comfortable as it always is between them, occasionally broken by a laugh from Phichit or a comment from Yuuri when they want to show each other something on their phones.

Only when they can’t ignore their growing hunger anymore do they untangle their limbs and get out of bed.

And there really isn’t a huge difference from the day before to today. Yuuri still offers Phichit the use of the bathroom first, they decide to visit the same cafe they went to yesterday, Phichit even orders the same drink, but somehow it feels light years apart from how their day started on Saturday.

Because, this time, they’re holding hands as they make their way down two blocks to the cafe; this time, when the barista gives them a knowing smile, she has the correct assumption; this time, Yuuri has no reason to be self-conscious about how much he likes staring at Phichit’s smile or how much he savors each laugh he tugs from the younger man.

It’s the same and different all at once, a subtle change and a massive change wrapped up in one.

When Yuuri gets the urge to press a chaste kiss to Phichit’s cheek, he does so without worrying about rejection. Instead, he gets to watch the corners of Phichit’s mouth turn up in a soft smile and it makes Yuuri feel like he's floating. When Phichit says something teasing that makes him blush, Yuuri isn't worried about Phichit sniffing out his crush and ending their friendship because Phichit already knows and reciprocates his feelings. They spend the afternoon out and about in Anaheim, exploring without any plans, visiting whatever store catches their attention, and it’s amazing not to worry about slipping up in front of Phichit for the first time in several weeks and to just enjoy Phichit’s company.

Yuuri almost wants to write a thank you card to the two designers who backed him into participating in MX for inadvertently giving him the opportunity to make this happen, for setting up the rush of adrenaline Yuuri needed to voice his feelings.

(Obviously, he can't do that without revealing to his friends that Phichit had been his pretend boyfriend up until now.)

The thought makes Yuuri pause, staring absently at his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, fingers frozen where they had been doing his hair for the launch party. Standing next to Yuuri, his own fingers carding through his hair for the same purpose, Phichit cocks an eyebrow, meeting Yuuri’s gaze in the mirror, “Everything okay?”

“What are we going to tell people?” Yuuri asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Almost everyone we know thinks we’ve been dating for almost nine months. They’ll be expecting us to have an anniversary soon if we don’t say anything,” Yuuri points out.

Phichit blinks, as if the thought hadn’t yet occurred to him, and then snorts. “That’s a good point. Not to mention all those stories I made up about our first couple of dates.”

“We’re screwed,” Yuuri mumbles, dropping his hands to the counter.

With a shrug, Phichit replies, “We don’t have to be. I mean, it’s not like anyone will be asking us about it since they think we’ve been dating this whole time. Also, I know Mila will find the whole thing hilarious, Takeshi will figure out eventually when Yuuko tells him, and I’d love to get Chris and Viktor’s reactions on camera if we spill the beans.”

“You don’t think they’ll be mad?”

“I think they’ll tease you relentlessly about it for a few months,” Phichit says, voice cheery despite the blunt statement. Finished with his hair, Phichit washes his hands as he adds, “The entire situation is pretty hilarious.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and goes back to his own hair, “You’re a beacon of reassurance.”

Phichit winks at him in the mirror, “Always a pleasure.” When Yuuri merely raises an eyebrow, Phichit relents with a smile, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist and resting his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It’s not like we need to make a decision about it right now. I vote we keep having a fun and laid-back day, enjoy the launch party, and get some sleep before driving back tomorrow morning. We can take our time about it, a couple more weeks won’t mean much in the scheme of things.”

Leaning back into the embrace, Yuuri smiles as he washes his own hands. “You’re good at that.”

“Of course, I am,” Phichit retorts. “For my reference though, what am I good at?”

Yuuri laughs, turning around in Phichit’s grip to face him properly, “Knowing the right thing to say to make me feel better.”

“Ah, well I have selfish motivations for that.”

“Really? Enlighten me.”

“Your smile,” Phichit says, eyes twinkling, “it makes me happy when you’re smiling.”

At some point, Yuuri thinks (Yuuri hopes), Phichit will stop catching him off-guard with comments like this. He doesn’t know if it will take weeks or months, but he finds himself fervently wishing that he’ll have years to adjust if only because that means this new dynamic between them will last that long and longer.

For now, he’s not used to it at all, and Phichit’s frank response has his smile widening even as he feels his cheeks heat up slightly. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against Phichit’s in a fleeting kiss before saying, “You, Phichit Chulanont, are a smooth talker.”

“Just a talker, but when you say as many things as I do, eventually you have to end up saying the right stuff now and then.”

Bemused at the response, Yuuri merely shakes his head and reluctantly steps out of the warmth of Phichit’s arms to move out of the bathroom. The sun has already set and the launch party started nearly twenty minutes ago, he assumes if they take too long to show up Yuuko will bodily drag them from the hotel to the party.

Picking up his phone and glancing at the three texts from the woman in question, Yuuri lets out another laugh. As he hears Phichit step out of the bathroom, Yuuri says, “We should get going before Yuuko loses her patience.”

“In a minute,” is the soft reply, something in Phichit’s voice urging Yuuri to look up from his screen to look at his boyfriend.

(And he doesn’t know when he’ll get tired of being able to legitimately say Phichit is his boyfriend, but Yuuri has a sneaking suspicion that it won’t be happening any time soon.)

Yuuri’s eyes don’t meet Phichit’s at first, he’s too busy taking in the younger man’s appearance, from the deep red dress shirt that looks vibrant against Phichit’s skin, the sleeves carefully rolled up to show his forearms, to the black trousers that are just fitted enough to show off his dancer’s physique. Dragging his gaze up to meet Phichit’s, Yuuri doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he was admiring the outfit; he tilts his head inquisitively even as a small smile still plays on his lips.

“What’s up?”

“I just…” Phichit trails off, frowning over Yuuri’s shoulder thoughtfully as if the words he wants to say are etched on the wall. “It meant a lot to me when you came to my showcase, and that was one of the biggest reasons why I volunteered to come here with you.”

“Oh? What was the other reason?” Yuuri prods.

“An unbearable crush on you that my roommates didn’t let me forget about for longer than an hour,” Phichit says without shame, a grin flashing at him, meeting Yuuri’s gaze again. The grin shrinks into something softer, “But I watched this video of you when you were streaming in college, someone asked you what you wanted to do when you finished school. Do you remember what you said?”

That makes Yuuri pause, brows furrowing as he tries to remember. He really doesn’t much time reflecting on his time streaming, but he can guess at his answer, “Probably something about helping to make games.”

“You said you wanted to get the chance to make a video game good enough to make new gamers passionate about the industry, to show people how much you can do with a game, surprise people with how good a game can really be.”

Raising his eyebrows, Yuuri asks, “You memorized my answer?”

“Not verbatim,” Phichit replies with a shrug, “but I remembered because when I was watching, you looked so excited just talking about it and it reminded me of how happy I feel whenever I get the chance to dance. You already loved this so much and when I was watching, all I could think about was that you’re doing it, living your dream, and obviously I was really happy about that but more than that I was proud at how much you managed to do in such a short amount of time. You’re amazing, Yuuri, and I’m lucky to get to see you accomplish this.”

Yuuri stares as Phichit talks, feeling like his heart is going to pound through his chest as he listens to the sincerity that rings out with each word, his eyes widening, stunned that somehow, he just managed to meet someone as kind and compassionate as Phichit is.

When the words stop, Yuuri opens his mouth to reply and finds that he doesn’t have any words, that he can’t think of anything to try and force around the lump in his throat. Phichit seems to understand, a fond look on his face at Yuuri’s speechlessness.

Phichit clears his throat, ducking his head for a moment in a rare display of embarrassment, “Well, that’s my spiel, I guess we should get going now?”

He makes to walk past Yuuri but never gets to the door. Yuuri reaches out, wrapping an arm around Phichit’s waist and whirling the dancer around in his grip so they’re pressed against each other, fingers curling into the material of Phichit’s shirt. Yuuri barely registers Phichit’s surprise at the rapid movement before he’s pushing forward into a kiss, his free hand cradling Phichit’s cheek as he tries to communicate every ounce of gratitude for Phichit’s support with the way he holds Phichit tight, the way his lips move against Phichit’s.

Yuuri feels Phichit’s hands resting against his chest, fingers splayed wide as Phichit kisses him back with a soft noise of approval that Yuuri can all but taste and a wide smile that Yuuri can feel and trace the curve of with his own.

When he pulls back, Yuuri only moves far enough away to meet Phichit’s gaze, “I don’t know how I ended up with a boyfriend as amazing as you are.”

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Phichit says.

Yuuri gives a thoughtful hum and drops a peck on Phichit’s nose, smile widening at the way Phichit wrinkles it slightly before letting out a soft laugh. “Well, in that case, lucky us.”

“Lucky us,” Phichit murmurs the phrase against Yuuri’s lips as he steals another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I'm kind of shocked that this story is over! This was very different from any of the stories I usually write so there were a couple of times where I wasn't sure I would manage to get it done but here we are!! Thank you so much for riding along with me as these two oblivious boys got their shit together. It's tragic that this pairing is such a rare one, but if you write phichuuri _please_ don't hesitate to tag me on [tumblr](http://lovingnikiforov.tumblr.com) or on [twitter](http://twitter.com/lovingnikiforov)! I'm always ready to read more of this ship!
> 
> ~ Dessa (writingfromtheshadows)


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